Song of the Flightless Bird
by RvnsDsks
Summary: A Maleval fic set before, during and after the time of the movie. Told mostly from Diaval's perspective as he tries to understand the inner workings of Maleficent, and how he stands in relationship to her. Will feature Aurora, Stefan, Phillip and the fairies. Slight!AU in that Aurora enters the Moors a little earlier than in the film. Rated T for potential triggers.
1. Flightless

**I'll try to keep Author's Notes short and to the point, and not often, since I know a lot of you hate ANs. This is my first Maleficent fic, and one of my first fanfics, so please be polite and mindful of that. This is not currently Beta read/approved, though I'm willing to take offers if anyone is interested. I appreciate any constructive criticisms you have to offer in the reviews, which make me update faster. I do have this fic outlined out, so hopefully updates will be frequent.**

 **This fic is set in the time of the movie, with some slight deviations based on my own interpretations and thoughts while watching. It's rated T for some content, mostly violence and disturbing things, as well as possible triggers. Sexual situations in later chapters, though mostly implied, still intense, but I'll post warnings in the ANs.**

 **I think that covers it, so hope you enjoy the story!**

 **\- Raven**

* * *

Chapter 1- flightless

"Maleficent? Maleficent!"

The boy's voice pitched with the usual cadence of a pre-pubescent 12 year old. He stood between two towering statues, the gray rock faded and covered with moss, carved in the shape of faces with huge, gaping mouths. He shifted his weight back and forth, scanning the forest before him anxiously, but there was nothing but silence from the trees. The boy slumped and turned, his feet dragging reluctantly against the grass.

A flap of wings and a gust of wind behind him made him stop in surprise.

"Look who finally decided to show up," a girl's voice spoke to his back, a laugh in her voice. "After all these weeks."

The boy turned, and found himself face to face with Maleficent. He stood and gaped for a moment, still caught off guard with how she always managed to arrive so silently and always when he least expected it.

"Well, where have you been?" Her lips curled in a smile, and her emerald eyes twinkled with gold.

"I…I'm…I was…" he stammered helplessly, too embarrassed to admit the truth, and too proud to admit he was embarrassed. Maleficent laughed, and he found himself smiling as well, albeit a little sheepishly.

"You're forgiven, whatever the reason was," she said, then frowned, her eyes flashing gold. "But don't be late again."

The boy gulped, nodding his head rapidly as he stared at her cold expression, which immediately melted into a laugh once more, her wings rippling in excitement as she grinned at him. The boy's shoulders slumped once more, in relief this time, and he chuckled along with her, watching the way her eyes lit up and her wings spread out behind her in her amusement.

"So, what do you do for fun around here?" He asked, once their laughter had subsided.

Maleficent's eyes flashed gold once more, and before he could understand how it had happened, she was behind him, her hands catching him around the waist, and suddenly he was no longer on his feet, and instead being lifted up into the sky, gusts of wind ruffling his hair. He let out a strangled yelp of surprise, and heard Maleficent laughing above him. Raising his head at an awkward angle, he saw Maleficent's outline, her hands wrapped tightly around him, her wings beating a steady rhythm, blasting him gently with waves of wind. Looking down, he could see the Moors stretching out beneath him, his feet dancing along the tops of the trees as they passed overhead. A grin split his features, and his fear vanished as the beauty of the enchanted place struck him, the view like nothing he had ever seen before.

Maleficent carried them past the lake where he had stolen the diamond, and continued through the Moors, watching with delight as he waved and laughed at all the creatures who came out to see the odd sight of her carrying the human above the ground. A tall cliff, taller than any of the others, came into view, and on top of the cliff an old, twisted tree stood proudly, watching over everything. The boy couldn't help but feel a twinge of worry as they approached the tree, flying lower, and closer by the second. His hands moved to where Maleficent's lay against his stomach, and felt her give a powerful flap of her wings before suddenly letting go, and he yelled as he fell, down, down…and landed safely in a large nest curled in the center of the tree's branches. He gasped for breath, and watched as Maleficent herself gracefully landed on the branch above him, tucking her wings neatly against her back, her feet swinging lightly in his face.

"That was cruel," he said, scowling at her in irritation as he tried to avoid her feet.

"I could have dropped you _off_ the cliff, you know," she said in response, raising her chin slightly.

"Well, then, that was kind of you," he amended quickly, embarrassed again.

Maleficent smiled smugly, a throaty sort of chuckle slipping past her lips. Her eyes shifted to the left, staring out over the Moors.

"What do you think?" Her voice was quiet, but expectant, and the boy followed her gaze, taking in the land once again.

"It's incredible," he breathed, awed. _You're incredible_.

She smiled, and rose into the air again, hovering above him and extending a foot. He stared at it, then at her, his brow furrowing, and her smile relaxed for just a second.

"You trust me, don't you?"

 _Always._

He reached up and took a hold of her ankle, and she was smiling again, laughing as she carried him out of the tree and then dropped, pulling out of the dive to glide gracefully across the lake. His feet dangled in the water before she gave a sudden kick, her wings lifting her up, and the boy found himself falling face first into the water, spluttering and coughing as he came up, trying to catch his breath in the midst of Maleficent's laughter. He tried to frown, to be angry, but her laugh went through him, and he was laughing too, and held out his hand to her, a silent request to help him out of the water.

She flapped her wings, hovering over him once more. Her hand grasped his firmly, and she pulled, but he didn't budge. Her wings strained and she frowned, a grimace overtaking her features as her hand seemed to burn. Crying out, she tried again to pull him out of the water. But even as she strained he still didn't move, instead beginning to sink; and he was taking her down with her.

"No! Stefan, stop!" She tried to release him, but now her feet were in the water, her waist…it was up to her chest now, her wings sticking to her back as she desperately tried to free herself. But too late, for now the water was over her head, filling her lungs and eyes and mouth. She tried to scream, to call for help, but no help was to be found. Not even the water sprites came to her aid. All that there was was the grip on her hand, dragging her steadily downwards.

Suddenly, her feet hit something solid and the water was gone, and she fell to her knees, tears and water streaming down her face as she coughed and vomited up to water that had settled in her chest. Two booted feet came into her view, and she brought her hands up, resting her weight on her palms, but then she hissed in pain and leaned back, bringing her right hand up to her face. Through the streams of water she could make out an angry red welt in the center of her palm, so small it was almost unnoticeable….a burn. She gasped, her fingers just brushing the surface of the wound, not daring to believe it was there. But it was, and it wasn't healing like it was supposed to.

 _Feet._

She remembered suddenly that she hadn't been alone, and she raised her head to stare at a dark silhouette standing above her, his face surrounded in shadow. She pushed herself up and stood shakily, her wings fluttering weakly to try and keep her on her feet. The figure still towered over her, the man's face unreadable, and unrecognizable. She squinted, the dark hair curling around his face was somewhat familiar….

"Stefan?" She whispered, and the figure stiffened, a chin raising slowly in defiance.

Stefan, for of course it was he, stood unmoving, and it unnerved Maleficent greatly. He didn't look any worse for wear, and his clothes were dry, which confused her more than anything.

"I'm glad you're alright," she said tentatively, and he shifted, taking a step forward. For some reason, she found herself stepping backwards away from him.

"I was afraid you had drowned," she continued, stepping back again as he moved closer.

"That's a foolish thing to think," he said, and his voice was darker than it usually was, cold and harsh, yet burning in intensity. Like iron.

Maleficent laughed nervously. "Yes, it is. Very foolish. I'm glad to see it's not true."

She tripped, and Stefan caught her, grabbing her wrist and pulling her almost violently towards him, catching her against his chest before she could fall again. Pain flared against her skin, and she squirmed, a small whimper escaping her.

"Stefan, please," she gasped, struggling to free herself from his grasp. "Your ring."

He said nothing, and did nothing for a moment, before releasing her, and she stared at the burn mark on the inside of her wrist, just as angry and inflamed as the one on her palm.

"You're scaring me, Stefan," she whispered, staring up at him in growing horror.

"Good."

The one word sent a chill down her spine, and her wings ruffled, instinctively raising her a foot off the ground before setting her back down again. This couldn't be her Stefan. He would never hurt her like this. He had thrown away the ring, she had seen him do it; he had thrown it away, just so they could touch. His hair was curly, yes, but it wasn't wild like this. His eyes had never been this cold, never cruel. Not towards her. And yet, there he stood, cold, and cruel. Hurting with words, and with his hands.

A tremor went through her, and she turned to run, but he had grabbed her from behind, one hand digging viciously into her back, the other reaching around to grab her throat. A strangled cry escaped her as she felt the ring searing into her neck. She found herself on her knees, Stefan's hands keeping her in place. His grip on her throat slackened before releasing completely, and she sighed in temporary relief before her breath caught once more.

There was an awful rattling sound, and her blood ran cold, all rational thought seeming to flee in the wake of the metal. She could feel his hands moving now, though she was powerless to stop him, and within moments she felt the iron chains wrapping around her wings, binding them and digging into her back. Silent tears streamed down her face as the iron seared her back, and she twisted desperately; vainly, to try and free herself.

"Please!" She cried, her voice choked with pain. "Stefan, please!"

She didn't quite know what she was begging him to do, or not do, as long as it didn't involve this…this torment. There was a cold, sliding sound. More metal, but different from the iron which was burning her flesh.

 _A knife._

She was panting now, her breaths coming in sharp, jagged bursts, and the pain was making her head spin. She felt something foreign touch her wings, and they jerked violently, thrashing against the chains and causing the metal to dig even further into her back. Stefan's hands moved once more, and the chains tightened, pinning her wings tightly together and shifting the chains to rest against her shoulders. The knife came again, a quick, purposeful stab, slicing through her skin and partially severing one wing from her shoulder.

She screamed then, again and again in rhythm with his thrusts, the pain like nothing she had felt before. A numbness seemed to settle inside her, and she felt detached, like it was happening to someone else. Not her. Not him.

The chains fell from her body, and she felt something else drop with them, and she nearly stumbled backwards from the loss of weight. Her head turned, and through her fading vision she saw her wings, chained and bloodied, lying limp and lifeless in the soft grass. The pain tore through her in waves, burning from the iron, the torn flesh and crushed bones combining to drive her almost physically into the ground.

"How does it feel?" A cold voice hissed in her ear, and her eyes flashed in anger and pain.

"How does it feel to be a wingless fairy, in a world you don't belong to?"

The man's voice stopped, then changed, becoming younger; a boy's voice calling her name.

"Maleficent!"

Older now, 16.

"Happy birthday, Maleficent."

The ghost of a kiss pressing against her lips, her wings fluttering from pure joy, wings that now lay dying at her feet.

At his feet.

"How does it feel, Maleficent?" Old again, thick with anger and triumph.

She couldn't speak, couldn't move for the pain. Screams tore from her throat, and sobs wracked her body, bent and twisted on the ground.

 _Maleficent._

"I'm sorry, Maleficent."

 _Maleficent!_

His voice, calling her.

"Forgive me."

 _ **Never!**_

"Maleficent!"

Her eyes flew open, a gasp escaping her lips. Emerald orbs, now glowing softly, flicked restlessly around the place she now lay. Tree roots enveloped her body, embracing her the way her wings used to, reminding her all too sharply of all that had been taken from her. She shifted her weight and winced at the sharp stab of pain that went through her, gritting her teeth and drawing a quick breath, releasing it in a hiss as the pain eased and she straightened.

Her hand reached out and grabbed the staff that leaned against the tree's trunk, vines twisting so delicately around the wood that one would have thought it to be a part of the tree itself. Its only distinctive feature which separated it from its cousin was the purple, gold and emerald jewel resting in a small ornate cage on top of the staff. Maleficent's hands gripped the familiar wood of the staff in both hands at first, resting its tip on the ground and leaning half of her weight on it, stopping short when her back protested at the slight strain. Cursing furiously under her breath, she reached a hand out and placed it on the trunk of the tree, leaning sideways and simultaneously pushing off with the staff, somewhat effectively bringing herself to her feet.

She drew several quick breaths, more gasping than actual breathing, and closed her eyes, allowing her body to adjust to being upright and unbalanced. Her eyes opened at the sound of wings, much smaller than her own had been, and was met with the sight of a pure black raven, cawing and struggling to find a way through the tangle of roots that enveloped her. She pursed her lips and blew a small wisp of magic in the bird's direction, and the bird squawked indignantly, but flew through the small hole that she had landed him in front of.

The raven flew closer to her, squawking anxiously, and she flicked her fingers, a dark smoke engulfing him before a man stood before her, just a few inches shorter than she, dark, thin hair plastered to his face, and charcoal black eyes staring at her in concern. His brow was slightly furrowed, accentuating the scars that graced his face.

There was silence between the two for a moment, then the voice called again.

"Maleficent!" Almost angry, but more desperate than anything else.

The woman in question stiffened, her fingers wrapping tightly around the staff, and her jaw clenching.

"He's been there for 'least an hour now, calling you," the raven-man said, peering at Maleficent closely.

"Let him call," she said, her chin lifting as she swallowed.

She turned and ducked between two branches, stepping out from the shelter of the tree, and the man followed her at a careful distance, just a few steps behind should she need his help. Not that she'd ever admit to needing it.

"You were screaming again." The man said, finding no other way to phrase his concern than with the truth.

She stopped, and he could see the way her body tensed, seeming to curl in on itself, ready to run or protect at a moment's notice.

"I was not." No protests or excuses. Just direct, and blunt denial; a command wrapped in the lie.

And she continued walking, the subject clearly dangerous grounds to tread. But he trod anyway. Dangerous grounds were his favorite places to be as a raven, there were always the best treasures hidden there. And this was no exception in his mind.

"You were." He insisted, stepping over an upturned root and moving to walk alongside her, turning his body so he could stare at her face. "I heard you. And," he lowered his voice. "He did as well, I'm sure of it."

"Enough."

She didn't need to look at him for the man to know he had gone too far. He nodded his head once, then fell into a more easy step beside her, and she relaxed, her staff and the occasional misstep onto a twig the only sounds between them. After a moment, the man began to realize that they were going the wrong way.

"Aren't you going to see what he wants?" He asked, turning once more to face her.

Only silence in response.

"But surely you're curious?" He continued, anxious and not completely sure why. "It must be important, and if the border guards haven't killed him yet then..."

"What? I suppose you will?" She finally said, a hint of amusement in her tone as she inclined her head to him.

"I might," he replied immediately, eliciting the smallest traces of a smile from her, the sight making him wish to never see it end. But it did, as was characteristic to her.

"You wouldn't," she said, and that was that.

"I would," he repeated, his tone slightly darker as he stared at her, thinking on all that the man had done to her, and how desperately he wished to make him pay for it.

She stopped, and for a moment he thought she was angry; her eyes certainly seemed that way. But then she sighed and waved her hand again, and he flapped his wings, cawing as he lifted himself into the air.

"Go and see what he wants, then, if you're so curious."

She said it so offhandedly, as though she herself could care less about it, although the raven knew that she was just as eager to know as he.

"Diaval." Her voice stopped him, and he quickly shifted his wings to carry him back so he glided over her head.

"Be careful," she said, quieter than before, almost vulnerable, and then it was gone and she was cold once more.

But Diaval smiled to himself anyway, and took off towards the border, a growing sense of dread settling in his stomach as he thought of why on earth would he return after all this time, and just how he thought Maleficent would do anything for him, after all that he had done to her.


	2. Regret

**Hey everyone! Thanks so much for the interest in my story. Even if it's not much, it still means a lot to know that people are actually reading and enjoying my work, so thanks for that! I'd really appreciate some reviews, too. Even if you hate it, everything is a response I listen to and work through with further writing. Also, I do realize I tend to switch POVs randomly, I am trying to catch it as I go, but let me know if I need to fix it. But anyway, to the important stuff: the story.**

 **No warnings here, though I did have to split this chapter for length. Will post the rest in chapter 3 shortly. Hope you enjoy, and remember, reviews make me happy, and when I'm happy, updates come faster! :)**

 **\- Raven**

* * *

On the other side of the thorny boundary, King Stefan was having a similar train of thought. He paced back and forth between the two statues, hidden now by thorns, but their location was engraved in his memory, and his feet tread the familiar route by instinct alone. She would come. She always came, and always just when least expected.

But it had been hours, or at least one, and still no sign of her. He tried to fight the sinking feeling in his stomach, tried to remind himself what was at stake; he couldn't give up now.

"Maleficent!" He tried a final time. _Please_.

He turned, defeated, and his feet dragged against the grass, shorter and duller than it had been years before. A flap of wings sounded behind him and he turned, a thrill going through him at the sound. Surely it couldn't be?

But it was just a bird, a raven to be more exact, which perched on one of the thorns and peered at him with obsidian eyes. Stefan stared at the bird, and it stared back at him, before he grew annoyed and waved his hands at it, trying to frighten it away. The bird didn't even flinch, simply cocked its head, as though confused, or maybe amused at the King's attempts.

Stefan cursed, and bent down, retrieving a stone. He threw, and the bird screeched angrily, feathers ruffling as it lifted itself off the thorn to avoid the rock. The bird hovered for a moment before swooping over his head, batting at his ear with a wing as it passed, then glided back to the thorn and perched again.

"Well I see I'm not to be rid of you," Stefan growled, and the bird simply stared. "Could you at least make yourself useful and find Maleficent for me?"

The bird suddenly flew up again, and Stefan saw what looked like smoke seem to cover its wings, before a man suddenly stood before him, scowling darkly in silent fury. Stefan sneered, though inwardly he was surprised, and just a little fearful.

"I see. You're her little pet, aren't you?" He spat 'pet' as though it were a filthy taste in his mouth.

The man drew himself up to his full height, eyes flashing. "I resent that accusation. I am her servant, and trusted friend."

Stefan laughed at that, a cold sound that made the man shudder. "That beast has no friends," he said, and the man clenched his fists, though Stefan paid no heed to that; he had a sword, and could easily run him through, bird or man. Maybe he could even bring it back to the castle, and see if the cooks could stuff a raven. He chuckled to himself at the thought, and the man muttered something under his breath.

"Enough nonsense," Stefan said, straightening and turning towards the thorns. "I know you're there, Maleficent."

He thought he saw something dark shift behind the wall, but it was gone before he could fully see what it was.

"And what do you want with her?" The man asked, his voice cold. "And what makes you think she would help you, after what you did?"

"Can't even say it, can you?" Stefan bit back, though the man's words struck a nerve. "Too much for you, is it?"

"You filthy..."

"Diaval."

The thorns shifted, and Maleficent stood before him, as regal and proud as she ever had been. The thorns bent around her, and she stood just inside the circle they made, ready to flee back to them at a moment's notice. Her eyes were cold, but just as stunning as he remembered them, and her expression was uncertain, as though she couldn't really believe that he stood before her. He was feeling the same.

His mouth worked to try and put his thoughts into words. "You haven't changed at all since I last saw you."

And failed.

She stiffened, so taut and so immediate that he was afraid she had turned to stone. Her eyes flashed an almost violent shade of gold, and her voice was like steel, sliding through him like a sword.

"I think you'll find I have."

His breath caught, and he struggled for a moment to think of what to say to amend it, but he suddenly had another matter to deal with.

"You cowardice little worn!" The raven, Diaval, was striding towards him, his own eyes flashing darkly and pure hatred written on his face. Stefan stumbled back, too surprised to register what he was doing, his confidence forgotten in the face of so much anger.

"You dare show your face here? Speak to her?"

Stefan stammered wordlessly, but suddenly the man stopped, like a dog on a short rope, and stepped back to his previous position, though Stefan noted that he had moved closer to where Maleficent stood, as though he could protect her. The thought brought back Stefan's arrogance, and he straightened, stepping forward once more. His lip curled in contempt, and he opened his mouth to fire back an insult of his own, when Maleficent spoke again, stopping him in his tracks.

"What is that you want?" Her voice was cold and betrayed no emotion, but he could hear the waver in it. The traces of fear that he had caused. The thought humbled him, if only a little, and he turned to face her, inclining his head slightly.

"I've come to a-"

"Apologize?" And her voice was so full of fury and pain that his head snapped up again. "It is far too late for that!"

"No!" Stefan cried, stepping forward quickly, causing her to stiffen even further, if it was even possible considering she was stone already. "I mean no...I know. That's...not why I've come."

"Of course it isn't." Her voice was empty, but there was an edge to it that wasn't hard to misinterpret. He winced, ever so slightly at her tone, but she straightened and any vulnerability was gone with her next words.

"What, then?"

Stefan swallowed, his hand gripping his sword instinctively. "The Queen," he said, and the raven-man raised an eyebrow, clearly interested, though Maleficent's features remained blank.

"She's fallen ill," he continued, tripping over his words in his haste to get them out, for fear she would turn him away if he didn't.

"I've called all the practitioners of medicine and magic, from all parts of the kingdom, but they are powerless to stop it, and they fear that…that she could die, if something isn't done soon."

She studied him a moment, and he shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. "And what makes you think I could do what others can not?"

He felt a brief surge of irritation. She was Maleficent, of course she could heal his wife! She seemed to sense his anger, but before he could think of anything to say, she spoke again.

"What is it that they say ails her?"

He looked up at her hopefully, but her face betrayed nothing, not even a hint of pity or concern.

"Fevers," he said, clearing his throat and taking a step forward. "And headaches that rage through her body and cause her fits of madness."

"Madness?" The raven spoke up so suddenly it startled Stefan, but he quickly hid it and continued, nodding once in affirmation but keeping his eyes on Maleficent.

"When it happens, she doesn't know where she is, or even who she is, and everyone is an enemy to her. Even me."

* * *

 _How does it feel, Stefan? To have someone's trust in you shattered so cruelly, so violently?_

Maleficent forced those thoughts from her mind and tried to think of what to do now. She couldn't let the woman suffer; it wasn't her fault, what her husband had done. And she would wager that she didn't even know what it was he had done in the first place. But helping her would be helping him, and she couldn't bear that.

"Some of the doctors say that she is cursed; that I must have angered a witch and that this is the punishment," Stefan continued.

Beside her, Diaval flinched at the term, and Maleficent herself bristled.

"And so you come to me?"

Stefan seemed to realize his error, but she spoke up before he could.

"What do you propose I do?"

"I…I don't know."

Diaval glanced over at her, but she ignored him, her eyes locked on Stefan's. "What do you _want_ me to do?"

"Anything," he said, and she could hear the desperation in his voice, and almost, just almost, he was a boy again, her friend, come for help. "Just heal her!"

It was the command in his voice that shattered the illusion, reality breaking through with a sharp twinge in her back. She raised her chin, and her eyes flashed gold before settling back to their normal emerald shade.

"No."

"I'm sorry?" Stefan stepped closer, his brow furrowed. Surely he had misheard.

"If only you were."

Maleficent's voice was quiet, but he heard her anyway.

"You can't just let her die!" He called, panic seizing him now.

"It is no concern of mine."

"Maleficent!"

No answer. Her back was to him now, the thorns beginning to close around her as she retreated. Anger, fear, panic, desperation…guilt. It all churned through him, a combination which temporarily banished his sanity, and he leapt forward, latching onto her arm and stopping her short, a small gasp escaping her at his action. He could feel her tense under his hand, and he was about to speak, to demand her to help, when suddenly he felt himself thrown backwards, a hand clenched around his throat.

"How dare you touch her?!" A dark voice shouted above him, rage in every word. "How dare you even think about harming her?!"

Stefan gaped, his mouth working but no sound coming out. He stared into the flaming black pits before him and felt a wave of terror. Solid ground was under his feet again, and it took him a moment to register that he even been off of them to begin with. He stammered soundlessly, his hands working to free the man's own from his throat.

"I swear," the man growled, his words harsh through gritted teeth. "If you lay hands on her again I will cut them off, do you understand me?"

Stefan spluttered in response.

"Do you understand?"

"Diaval."

Stefan found himself gasping for breath, rubbing his throat and glaring at the man as he backed away, returning to Maleficent's side. He cursed, and regretted that he hadn't used the opportunity to run the man through. As it was, he had completely forgotten he even had a weapon, considering the lack of oxygen he had been receiving.

"Maleficent," he began again, but she interrupted.

"Leave now. I am sorry for your wife, but there is nothing I can do, and nothing more for me to say to you."

"Afraid of me?" Stefan said in response, finally finding his breath, and his anger, again. He stepped forward, ignoring the glare the raven was sending his way. "Or is it that you hope to take from me what is precious, as revenge?"

"Go. Now." Her words were clipped, but he could hear the waver in her voice.

"Or what?" He challenged.

She made a vague gesture with a hand, and suddenly the man was no longer a man, but a rather large, midnight black cat, teeth the length of his finger bared in a vicious snarl. He drew his sword, but the creature seemed undeterred by it, and stalked closer, its dark eyes glinting wickedly.

"Demon." He whispered, and he himself was unsure who or what he was referring to.

"Diaval," Maleficent spoke up, her head turning to stare at him out of the corner of her eyes. "Be a dear and escort _King_ Stefan back to his castle."

And with those last, scathing words, she disappeared from Stefan's sight, swallowed by the tangle of thorns. The cat continued snarling at him, the intention behind the action quite clear, and Stefan stumbled backwards away from it, cursing and slashing at it with his sword. The beast crouched, its tail swishing ominously around its legs. The last thing Stefan saw was a flash of black, and teeth snapping closed before his eyes, and then…nothing.


	3. Searching

**Ok, here's chapter 3, otherwise known as chapter 2 pt. 2. Thanks for the interest in this story, and thank you to LotrHobbitFrozenJLUFan for the review! I loved Diaval so much in the movie, and I wanted to specifically showcase him in my story, and see more of what he thought throughout it all. There will definitely be more protective Diaval, though, so no worries there. ;)**

 **No warnings for this chapter, but there is a little backstory, and some hints towards some things...not sure how to say without spoiling. But no triggers, though intense subject matter is implied. Hope you all enjoy, and don't forget to review!**

 **\- Raven**

* * *

"He's gone, Mistress."

Diaval stood behind Maleficent, who was standing rigidly in the center of the fold of trees she had claimed as her 'throne.' She made no moves, and gave no sign that she had heard him, though he knew she had. One hand clutched her staff, the orb at the top swirling with purple and black clouds.

"Mistress?"

She drew a breath, and Diaval realized she was shaking. He strode quickly, making his way to her side. He moved as close as he possibly could without touching her, his face full of concern. She didn't even acknowledge him, eyes staring straight ahead, the hand not gripping the staff pressed lightly to her throat, as though remembering a different hand that had lain there.

"Mistress?" Diaval tried again, bringing one of his own hands to barely brush her arm; a feather's touch.

She flinched, a gasp escaping her as she pulled away, as though his touch had burned her. He winced at the fury in her eyes as she turned to face him, but it faded quickly and turned to defeat, before fading even further into emptiness.

"He's gone," she repeated, a hint of doubt in her voice.

Diaval nodded, not trusting himself to speak, and she drew another breath, much steadier than the first had been, and nodded as well. Diaval opened his mouth to speak, but her mouth moved as well, and he instantly stopped himself to hear what she had to say.

"You followed him all the way back?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"And the Queen…did you see her? Is it true what he says?"

"I did see her," Diaval responded, nodding hesitantly. She sensed his hesitation and raised an eyebrow.

"Well?" She prompted.

"I saw no signs of madness from her."

Maleficent made a noise in the back of her throat, a sort of 'I knew it,' and Diaval strove quickly to continue.

"But she is very ill. He did not lie to you." Not this time. Was his unspoken thought.

Maleficent frowned, her expression darkening, and Diaval fought the urge to step backwards as she approached him. She stood in silence for a moment, before her eyes flicked up to meet his, and Diaval was startled at the conflicting emotions in them that threatened to spill over into her face.

"Did I do the right thing, Diaval?"

The raven-man hesitated, unsure how to respond. She was clearly looking for an honest answer, but he was helpless to think of one, torn between the truth and a comforting lie.

"I don't know," he finally said, the only honest thing he could think of.

She pursed her lips, nodding, as though she had expected that from him.

"I think…" he added hastily, and she paused, her head turned slightly towards him. "I think that it is wrong, to let her suffer for what he did. She is innocent…."

"She is far from innocent, Diaval." Her voice was clipped, and full of an emotion that Diaval couldn't interpret.

"That may be," he conceded. "But still, it…"

"It is my decision, not yours," she snapped, and he fell silent, realizing that once again, he had gone too far. He sighed, and nodded, and she relaxed as well, waving her hand and turning him back into a raven, and he cawed once to her before flying off to scan the borders.

He didn't like to leave her alone for long, unsure of what exactly she would do without him there to stay her hand. He felt grateful to have been there for the confrontation with Stefan, fearing that it could have, no, would have most definitely gone in a different direction if he hadn't been there to be the physical manifestation of her feelings. She surely would have turned them on herself, or on the land, and he had seen for himself what it was like when that happened.

He landed on a mossy patch of rock just beyond the jeweled lake, right before the wall of thorns marking the boundary began. Cawing, he pecked on the rock and felt it shift under his feet-talons. The rock rose, splitting and growing, extending and morphing bits of itself to become arms and legs, then hands and feet, until he rested on the shoulder of one of the border guards.

It grunted and growled, the sound terrifying to hear, but was easy to understand once you learned the language.

 _"_ _Yes, I'm sure deep down she is grateful you didn't kill him, she just hasn't said anything yet."_

More garbled grunts.

 _"_ _No, I don't think she will, either."_

The guard extended a hand and pointed to the water, a breathy sort of noise coming from deep in its throat.

 _"_ _This is where they first met?"_ Diaval hopped to the very edge of the guard's shoulder and peered down at the crystalline lake below him.

The guard grunted an affirmative.

 _"_ _What happened?"_

The guard told him the story of how Stefan had stolen a diamond from the lake, but had been too frightened by the guards to leave, or return the item. It was only when he met Maleficent and she commanded him to did he give the stone to her.

 _"_ _They were close then?"_ Diaval asked, unsure of how human relationships fully worked.

The guard rumbled; a laugh.

 _"_ _Not right away, then?"_ Diaval realized, and the guard nodded.

 _"_ _But what happened after? What happened before he...?"_

The guard froze then, not saying a word, and Diaval felt it begin to sink back into the ground, tucking his arms and legs back into his body.

 _"_ _No!"_ Diaval cried, flapping his wings hastily to stay upright as he perch vanished from under him _"No, please tell me!"_

But his squawks fell on deaf ears; stone ears, rather, and he huffed angrily before flying along the length of the thorn wall. He didn't quite know why he was so determined to know the full story; he already knew what Maleficent had told him, how she had no wings and needed him to be them for her. She had only explained the reason to him after he had asked, pure curiosity driving his questions, and though he had no details, the answer itself was enough to send him into a rage at the very thought of the human king.

But she was holding something back from him, something bigger. She was so cold, never showing any emotion, and when she did, it was never a good sign. Something more had happened to make her this way, something else had been broken; taken. And he intended to find out what.


	4. Plans

**Hey everyone, hope this isn't too late for an update. Nothing too much here, and some of you might think this is just a filler chapter, but there is some development happening, as well as hints towards some more backstory. Next chapter is more Diaval-centric, and includes a very important scene of plot from the movie (hinthint).**

 **Hope you all enjoy! Don't forget to review! I'm not sure how to make that button more attractive to you, but I need to know what you think, and that this isn't all just for nothing.**

 **\- Raven**

* * *

Diaval flew all along the length of the thorn wall, but found nothing unusual to report; he rarely did, and at any rate, he was eager to get back to Maleficent. He banked sharply and turned around, his eyes gazing out in the direction of the castle, and he realized just how dark it was becoming. It was hard to tell while inside the Moors, just whether it was day or night, but he could now see that it was sunset, and heading into the evening. Flapping his wings even harder, he soared over the wall and back into the darkness of the Moors, cawing for Maleficent as he did.

He could see the creatures of the Moors glancing up at him, but when he asked, none seemed to know where Maleficent was. He could see the slight fear in their eyes, and knew that honestly they probably didn't care to know where she was, as long as she wasn't near them. He felt a pang of sadness as he thought of the fear the Moor creatures had of their Queen, and the fact that he was the only companion she truly had in this place.

Scanning the ground, he tried to think of where she might have gone. Certainly not to the Rowan tree, it was too difficult to reach any other way but by flying, but there weren't very many places to go in the Moors without flight. She was trapped, really, and he was desperate to find her now, especially after the incident with Stefan earlier. He wracked his brains and tried to think of the few places he knew she often went, and instantly he knew where she was.

The crumbling Ruins of the Moors came into view, and he dived down, calling for Maleficent as went. She didn't show herself, not that he had really expected her to, and he swooped low past a particularly crumbled section of wall. He passed a cracked pillar and knew he was on the right track; could see in the way the pillar was split and just barely standing upright that she had been there and taken her anger out of the most convenient object. A light shudder passed through him, thinking that it was better than the alternative.

Diaval swooped through a broken section of wall and immediately laid eyes on Maleficent, who stood near the window of the ruined room, her staff leaning against the wall beside her, her hands resting on the windowsill. He cawed softly, sailing easily over to her and lading on her shoulder. For a moment, she stood still, and Diaval shifted his feet nervously, glancing over at her to try and gauge a response. Her only reaction was to grip the windowsill even tighter, and Diaval gave another caw before flying up. Her fingers twitched, and he stood solidly on two feet, his hair falling in his eyes.

Now that he was a man once more, he was at a loss for what to say. He had had it all planned out in his head, even anticipating what she might say and coming up with a counter, but now that he stood before her, there was nothing to say.

She seemed to think otherwise, for she took a breath, and Diaval braced himself.

"Just say it, Diaval. I know you want to."

"S-say what, Mistress?" He stammered, and she made an impatient noise in the back of her throat.

"You think I'm wrong."

"No," he said, and he noticed her shift imperceptibly towards him.

"Oh?"

"I think, as you've said, that it's your decision to make, and I was wrong in what I said. It's not my place." Those last words came out more bitter than he had intended, and he noticed the way she bristled, but it was too late to amend it.

Her hands shifted on the windowsill, moving to grab something, but it was hidden in her hand before Diaval could see what it was.

"She'll die," he finally managed to say, and her head turned, her eyes flickering briefly to his before darting away again. "That's what they say; before the year is out, unless something is done."

"Well, that's plenty of time." Her voice was casual, as though discussing the weather.

"Three weeks!" Diaval cried, exasperated and just a little angry. He strode across the floor until he stood just behind her, and she tensed, sensing his anger. Or maybe, she was angry herself.

"Diaval." Her tone was a warning, one that the raven chose to ignore.

"She will die in three weeks, and you're the only one who can help, yet you refuse out of some petty grudge."

Instantly he knew he had said the wrong thing, and he backed away rapidly as the temperature in the room dropped, a cold breeze tearing through the room and sweeping his hair out of his face.

"Petty?" She repeated, her voice dangerously blank.

"I didn't mean…" Diaval tried to protest, and he felt a chill go through him as he was reminded of the moment when Maleficent had discovered the reason behind Stefan's betrayal. He desperately hoped to avoid a repeat performance, but just as he was bracing himself for her outburst, the wind died down, though the room remained cold.

"You're right." She sighed, and Diaval risked taking a step closer.

"Mistress?"

She didn't respond, but turned to face him, the object in her hand now visible. It was a small glass vial, full of a rose colored liquid that shimmered slightly when it was jostled.

"Is that…?" Diaval asked, eyes widening at the sight.

She flicked a hand at him in response, and once more he found himself a raven. He flew over and perched on the windowsill, taking the vial in one talon when she offered it to him.

"Be quick," she whispered, her voice full of cold urgency. "And be sure no one sees you."

He nodded, then took off, his heart pounding anxiously in time with the beat of his wings. He didn't dare to dwell on what had caused her sudden change of heart, he was just grateful that it had happened, and that she hadn't turned him into anything dreadful as a punishment. The castle soon loomed into view, and lights shone in various windows, the sections with the greatest amount of light signifying which areas were the most populated.

At the top of one of the many turrets and towers, a lone light shone in a window, removed from the rest of the palace. Diaval flew towards it, instinctively knowing that it was the one he was looking for. With a quick flap of his wings, he landed on the windowsill, his wings outstretched to keep his balance, and he peered inside carefully. The room wasn't as fancy as he had though it would be, simple tapestries hung on the wall, pictures of flowers and forests woven and decorated with gold, and a large bed took up the center wall, thin curtains folded back along its sides. In the bed, looking very small and pale, lay the Queen, her eyes closed and face drawn in pain.

With a careful flap and a shove, he forced his way through the half opened window and flew to the woman's side, placing the vial on the table beside her, and cawing softly to get her attention. Her eyes drifted open and spotted him, though she didn't seem startled or even surprised to see what she must have thought to be a wild raven in her bedroom. Instead, she smiled, a small light twinkling in her eyes.

"Hello," she whispered, her voice a breath in the silence. "Pretty bird."

Diaval cawed again, flapping urgently over to the table to tap the vial with a claw before flying over her head. She struggled to sit up, and she frowned as she saw the bottle, the liquid not quite as shimmering now.

"What's this?" She asked, looking up at him curiously. "Did you bring me a gift, clever bird?"

Diaval cawed again, swooping once more over the bottle and landing on the edge of her bed.

"Alright, alright."

The Queen reached over and took the vial from the desk, taking the cork from its stop and holding it up to her lips, her eyes on him, as though unsure. Diaval chirped quietly, ruffling his feathers, and the Queen swallowed to the rosy liquid. Slowly at first, then in a final quick swallow, Diaval waited to see what would happen. The Queen, too, seemed anxious for a result, but then suddenly she paled, laying back against the pillows as he face twisted once more into a grimace of pain. Diaval cawed in alarm, flapping his wings and hovering above her as she began to shiver under the many blankets that cover her. Then, just as suddenly, she stopped, a sigh escaping her lips as she relaxed, and a light flush rose to her cheeks.

The door suddenly burst open, and Diaval flew up to the rafters, hiding in a dark spot close to the wall as the King, followed closely by two nurses. Stefan scanned the room warily, while one nurse adjusted the pillows, and the other placed a hand to the Queen's brow.

"Her fever has broken, your Majesty," she exclaimed in awe.

Stefan glanced sharply over, disbelief and wonder on his face. "She'll live?" His voice was rough and full of emotion. The nurse nodded, and Stefan shook his head in wonder.

"But how?"

"Does it matter how, my Lord?" The other nurse spoke up quietly. "As long as she is well again; you should be grateful, not questioning the gift the spirits have sent you."

"Spirits," Stefan repeated, and his eyes fell on the cork on the table, and Diaval quickly flew across the room, landing on the windowsill just as the king noticed the bottle in his wife's hand. He could hear the man moving behind him, but he was already gone by the time he had reached the window; just a black speck on the horizon.

Diaval called to Maleficent as he approached the ruins, and she transformed him into a man before he could fully prepare himself for it. He somehow managed to keep his feet however, and she raised an eyebrow at him while he brushed himself off, waiting for the news.

"She drank it," he said, running a hand through his hair in an effort to keep it out of his face.

"And?" Maleficent's voice betrayed the curiosity that refused to show on her face.

"The nurses say that she will recover. She's still very weak, but no longer in harm's way."

"Well, I wouldn't go that far," Maleficent said, a wry smirk twisting her lips.

"Yes, well," Diaval replied, slightly flustered. "Apart from the obvious."

Maleficent turned away from him, looking out in the direction of the castle, even if the place itself was hidden by the lakes and trees of the Moors.

"And no one saw you?"

"Uh…"

She gripped her staff tightly, and he could feel the irritation begin to rise within her.

"Diaval."

"I believe," he said cautiously. "There's a chance that King Stefan saw me, as I was leaving."

"Why didn't you leave after delivering the potion?" Maleficent's voice was sharp, and Diaval couldn't help but wince at her tone.

"I had to be sure she drank it," he protested. "But then the nurses came in with the King, and I didn't have a chance to leave until he was distracted."

"What distracted him?" Maleficent interrupted, and Diaval noticed the slight waver in her voice, as though she couldn't decide whether or not to be curious.

"You did."

"What?" She turned, and now there was curiosity in her voice, as well as confusion.

"Not you directly, of course," Diaval shifted slightly under her gaze. "But he saw the bottle in the Queen's hand and knew it had to be you, which was confirmed when he saw me flying away."

She nodded imperceptibly, accepting his report, and he watched as she turned away from him once more, but he couldn't keep the one thing pressing on his mind hidden.

"He'll be coming for you, surely."

"Surely," she repeated, though she seemed to feel just the opposite, her tone dismissing, as though it were a fly that she could shoo away.

"And?" Diaval pressed, stepping closer.

"And what, Diaval?" She was irritated now, the fly persisting to annoy her. "What exactly do you expect me to do?"

 _Be more concerned!_ His mind shouted. _Show emotion!_ But what he said was: "Nothing," and she waved a hand, turning him into a raven and effectively ending the conversation.

But for Maleficent, the conversation as far from over. It replayed in her mind, Diaval's words echoing in her head and tormenting her ceaselessly. _He'll be coming for you, surely._ As though there was no doubt, as though he had seen for himself Stefan's army on the move. In a sense, he had, and though Maleficent tried to hide it, there was no denying that she was afraid. She had once toppled armies, singlehandedly destroying King Henry and putting an end to his wickedness. But that was when she had wings. Now…now Maleficent knew she was no match for an army. She had her magic, yes, and Diaval could be transformed into whatever she desired, but they would stand no chance if her walls fell; if Stefan really did come again.

They could only do so much, and Maleficent knew that something had to be done. Stefan's defenses were weak, while his armies were strong, and her own defenses impenetrable, but her offence sorely lacking. There had to be a way to turn the tide, a weakness, something to be destroyed that would weaken Stefan as he had her. Maleficent had thought that it could have been the Queen, but Diaval had played the role of conscience, and she had no choice but restore her. What really motivated the action, however, was the knowledge that the Queen wouldn't have been enough; that while Stefan cared for her, or at least, for all that she represented, removing her would not have served Maleficent's purpose. And, at least, he now owed her the life of his Queen; the life of his reign.

A grin slowly spread across Maleficent's face as she thought of it. Yes, let him come. And when he did, she would be waiting.


	5. Wings

**Hey guys, sorry if it's been so long for you since I updated. Here's the flashback chapter I promised you, along with a bit of a twist to the movie plot. This chapter is a bit longer, but I didn't want to have to split it again if I didn't have to. I hope you guys like what I've done, and how I played the scene. I had fun writing Diaval's first experiences as a human, hopefully you will too.**

 **Let me know what you think in the reviews! Let's maybe make it to ten reviews? I know you guys are reading, I'm just not getting any feedback. I'd really appreciate hearing from you guys, and to my two reviewers so far, thank you! And I am sending you virtual cookies through my computer. ;)**

 **Anyway, enjoy the chapter, and let's get some reviews, ok? Thanks!**

 **\- Raven**

* * *

Diaval flew over the trees by the Pool of Jewels and huffed furiously as he thought of his conversation with Maleficent. He couldn't understand why she behaved the way she did; even as a man he still lacked the understanding, maybe even more so than as a bird. He knew most of her actions stemmed from her hatred of Stefan, and the same applied to the king, but that didn't excuse the fact that she would have let the Queen die if he hadn't convinced her. He knew she was capable of acts of kindness; she had saved him, after all. But now…now Diaval wasn't so sure.

"Ha, I've got you!" The farmer crowed happily, crouching down and glaring at Diaval as he struggled under the net. The farmer's two dogs barked somewhere behind him, waiting for the signal that would allow them to tear him to pieces. Diaval cawed in panic as he flapped his wings uselessly against the net. He didn't want to die like this! He had so much more planned for his life; maybe find a mate and raise some hatchlings; add to his stash of shiny things.

"Wicked bird!" The farmer yelled, coming at him with a club, and Diaval braced himself for the blow, knowing that his dreams would never be realized.

Suddenly he felt warm, and glancing down he saw that his wings were shimmering with a gold light, dust seeming to settle between his feathers. He cocked his head, fascinated by the light, but then he cawed in alarm as pain suddenly filled him, and he vaguely wondered if the farmer had struck him. But then he noticed he was getting bigger, his bones stretching and snapping, and his feathers were falling off. He crawled along the ground, feeling his legs elongate, and his talons were replaced by…something else. The net was sliding down his back, and he flapped his wings…er, _things,_ and the net was thrown to the ground. He stood, and stumbled when he realized he was much taller, and that his wings were now, um…arms?

Where did that word come from? He wondered, wiggling his…fingers.

"It's a demon!" he heard the farmer yelling, and he was brought back to reality, turning to glance back at the man's retreating form, his dogs right behind him.

 _Man. Is that what I am?_ He glanced back down at his body, now featherless and naked, covered in pale flesh, arms and legs, and some kind of fleshy lump where his tail should have been.

Turning back around, he was surprised at the sight of a…woman…clothed in black robes and leaning slightly on a tall stick. Horns twisted out of her head, and the sight startled Diaval slightly, the woman like nothing he had ever seen. He could feel something about her, some kind of power, and the look in her eyes was a sort of smugness as she stared at him.

"What have you done to my beautiful self?" Diaval asked, his voice accented and full of accusation, because who else was there to blame?

"Would you rather I'd let them beat you to death?" She answered, her eyes sparking with…something that Diaval couldn't define, but he didn't think it was good.

He looked back down at his body, then at his featherless and fleshy 'tail.' _No wings_ , his mind whispered to him, and he turned back to her, his eyes narrow.

"I'm not certain," he answered, drawing himself up indignantly.

"Spoken plainly; I saved your life." The woman's voice held a sort of edge, and Diaval realized that she was right.

"Forgive me," he said quietly, dropping his head, staring at his feet and wiggling his toes in the dirt. He wasn't going to lie, he kind of liked the feeling of the dirt between his toes.

The woman hummed softly, and he looked up at her again.

"What do I call you?" She asked, curiosity in her voice, and Diaval drew himself up proudly, staring her in the eyes as he said,

"Diaval. And," he added humbly. "In return for saving my life, I am your servant. Whatever you need…."

"Wings." The woman answered softly, and Diaval could hear a sort of grief in her voice, hidden, but still there. "I need you to be my wings."

Diaval stared at her, a mix of suspicion and confusion in his eyes. He didn't think humans typically had wings, and he was about to say such, but something in her eyes stopped him.

"Go on," she said suddenly, seeming to sense his thoughts, and he shifted slightly, his hands moving at his sides, a nervous flapping motion.

"It's just…I didn't think humans had wings," he said softly, dropping his eyes to the ground in embarrassment.

She hummed again, but it was different, a little louder, but still quiet, and more…open. He brought his head up in surprise, stepping forward and stumbling a little over his own foot.

"Are you alright?" he asked, reaching out a hand, whether to steady her or himself he didn't really know, but he dropped it when she stepped away, something hard coming up in her eyes before falling away again.

"It's called a laugh, Diaval," she said patiently, and he nodded, before trying it himself, copying her movements as she had laughed. His voice sounded weird; like the brook when it went over the water, bumpy and rough, and he stopped immediately, frowning.

She laughed again, her mouth twisting upwards into a strange expression that Diaval found he liked.

"Don't worry, Diaval," she said, her mouth still in that weird upward shape. "You'll find your own laugh."

"Find my laugh?" Diaval asked, worried, even though she had told him not to be. "Can you lose your laugh?" And he brought his hand up to cover his own mouth, in case he had lost it already.

She laughed again, her mouth opening this time, and Diaval felt his own mouth open, matching that same upwards lift that hers had just formed. He probed at the shape, and she looked at him, her eyes seeming to glow.

"It's called smiling, Diaval."

"Smiling," he repeated, awed. "What does it mean?"

"People do it when they're happy," she said.

"I haven't met very many happy people, then," he said, and she smiled again, and he did as well, stepping forward towards her.

"I like your smile," he said, bold and shy all at once.

At his words, however, she stopped, her eyes flashing once in anger, and Diaval thought that he must have said something wrong.

"I…I'm…I…." he stammered, trying to find the word to describe his feeling.

"You don't need to be sorry, Diaval," she said with a sigh, and he grinned triumphantly at having found the word.

"Sorry! I'm sorry!" he said, smiling at her, but she did the opposite, turning away from him and walking away and into the field.

Diaval felt his smile fade, and he wondered what he had done wrong, and also wondered where she was going, and what it was that his mouth was doing now, if it wasn't smiling. He followed her, tripping a few times and falling, but he finally managed to get a hang of walking instead of hopping or skipping, and he caught up to her, stopping just a few feet behind her.

"I'm sorry," he said again, and she shook her head, turning back to him, her mouth not-smiling, and her eyes cold.

"We should find you clothes." Was all she said, and he felt his eyes narrow again in confusion, but she simply looked around the field, then up at the scarecrow, and a small smile settled on her face as she turned and reached up to grab the black clothes that it wore. She stopped suddenly, her hand still outstretched and clinging to the corner of the material, her back tensing and a hiss escaping her as her hand not clenching the clothes tightened around her staff.

Diaval cawed in alarm, his human voice distorting the sound into something rather ugly to hear. He started to reach out to her, but she straightened, and grabbed the cloth and pulled, another hiss sounding from her, before she turned and handed it to him. He took it, rather clumsily, staring at her in concern.

"I'm fine, Diaval," she said, schooling her features into a blank expression. "No need to stare at me like that."

He nodded doubtfully, then stared at the clothes, wondering how to put them on. He was silent for a moment, then straightened the one piece of fabric, and was surprised when another piece fell to the ground. He stared at it for a moment, before returning his gaze to the article in his hands, straightening it out and holding it in front of him. It was plain black, and slightly square in shape, with two long strips of fabric attached to the sides, which, upon closer inspection, opened at one end. The top of the square was open as well, and holding it up to his body Diaval realized how it would fit on him. He carefully shoved his head into the larger hole at the bottom, pulling his arms through the smaller holes and arranging the fabric so it hung on his body the right way. Then he reached down and grabbed the other piece of clothing and examined it. He assumed it went over his legs somehow, and he noticed there were holes in it as well. Carefully, he put one leg into the hole and pulled the fabric up, then put his other leg in as well, and then he pulled the material up until it covered his legs completely.

"Well done," the woman said, and Diaval looked up to find her staring at him with a sort of proud look in her face. Or maybe proud wasn't quite the right word, he didn't really know.

"Um…" Diaval said, the spreading of his arms reminding him of her original statement. "You mentioned wings?"

She froze, her expression faltering, then she quickly composed herself once more. "Yes," she said quickly. "That is something we will discuss later."

Diaval realized it was something she didn't want to talk about right away, and he nodded, filing the subject away for later note.

"In the meantime," she continued, but Diaval interrupted, not noticing the look of annoyance on her face.

"What do I call you?" he asked, and she stopped suddenly, caught off guard for a moment.

"I am Maleficent," she said, but then her eyes turned hard, and Diaval surmised that it wouldn't bode well for him to call her that, and it was confirmed when she finished with, "But don't call me that."

"Madam, then?" Diaval suggested, unsure where the title had come from, but then he shook his head, feeling that it didn't fit right, not for her. "No, how about, Miss…no, Mistress?"

"I suppose that will do," she said, and Diaval nodded.

"Now then," she began, and once more, Diaval interrupted her.

"Are you hurt?"

"No," she said immediately, her face morphing into what Diaval thought must be confusion, considering the way his face had done the same thing when he was confused. "Why do you ask?"

"Just, when you stopped before, getting the close, it seemed like you were in hurt. Pain," he corrected himself quickly. "In pain. Hurting."

"No," she said sharply, before relaxing. "No, I'm fine."

He nodded, as did she, and then she straightened, fixing him with a glare that said she was not to be interrupted this time. He quickly closed his mouth tightly, his eyes on hers as she spoke.

"I need you to go to the castle."

 _Castle?_ He wondered, and was about to say it aloud before remembering he wasn't supposed to talk, and he clenched his jaw.

"I need you to spy on the king there and report to me all that you see and hear. Everything, do you understand?" She pressed, and he nodded, still forcing himself to stay silent. "Nothing is inconsequential."

He nodded again, and she lifted her chin, approval in her tone. "Good."

She flicked her fingers, and suddenly he fell, and his bones were snapping again, and there was discomfort, but not pain, and suddenly he was falling faster, and his body felt light. He flapped his arms…only to find that they were his wings once more, and he crowed with delight before taking off again, soaring up into the sky, dizzy with the rush of the wind in his face. Only once he could taste the clouds did he remember his mission, and he scanned the ground for any sign of a castle, whatever that was, and thinking about his new mistress.

She had been very patient with him, he realized. Very patient, to explain everything to him and try to help him through the strange transition he had gone through, and he thought that she must be a good person, to have saved him from the farmer and his dogs, and that he wouldn't mind being the servant to such a good and patient person as she.

Where is that patience now? Diaval wondered as he flew over the thorn wall. Where is that woman now? And how do I bring her back?

His eyes caught on something shiny glinting down below, and he swooped down a little closer, his sharp eyes scanning the ground for whatever the treasure might be. He lifted his head and noticed just how close to the castle he was, and then looking down again, his eyes caught the shiny thing again, and he crowed in alarm when he realized what it was. Helmets, swords, spears. Armor and shields, and heavy metal boots, stomping the ground and beating a path straight for the Moors.

Diaval followed their path with his eyes, moving ahead to where they would march, and they would end up just outside the thorn wall, but there was no way through. Diaval looked down at the soldiers once more, looking for any catapults, but there were none of those, either. Just torches of fire, which reflected off the metal and caused the shiny glint he had seen. And, he noticed, there was only a small troop of soldiers, no more than five, and a sixth person of some importance that marched at the head of the group, and Diaval realized that it was the king himself.

He had seen all he needed to, and he banked sharply, flapping his wings to balance himself out before soaring as fast as he could over the thorn wall, calling for Maleficent all the way. Instead of finding Maleficent, he ended up landing on Ronin, Balthazar's twin brother and fellow Guardian.

 _"_ _What's wrong, Diaval?"_ Ronin grunted. _"The entirety of the Moors could hear you yelling."_

"The king and five of his soldiers are coming to the Moors," Diaval gasped, his wings flapping anxiously by his sides and not allowing him to fully rest on the guardian's shoulder. "Where is Maleficent?!"

 _"_ _Sleeping,"_ Ronin answered quietly, reaching a hand up to pluck Diaval from his shoulder. Diaval squawked indignantly, but Ronin simply held the bird in his outstretched palm.

"Where?" Diaval demanded, but Ronin shook his head.

 _"_ _She hasn't slept all day, Diaval,"_ he said, his tone heavy. _"If she's finally sleeping now, let her be."_

"But…"

 _"_ _We can deal with the king and his men,"_ Ronin interrupted gently. _"If we do run into any trouble, then, and_ only then _, can you get Maleficent."_

Diaval shuffled nervously, not liking it, but he nodded, agreeing, and flew off in the direction of the Rowan tree before remembering that she couldn't be there, and he turned around, heading towards the waterfall that poured into the far end of the Pool of Jewels. He knew she liked to sit by the water sometimes, (never going in, of course), and that there was a cave hidden behind the falls that she would sometimes rest in. Hide in would have been more appropriate, but Diaval ignored those thoughts now, too focused on finding Maleficent. Behind him, he could hear yelling, and he glanced back to see the flames from the torches, bobbing at the top of the thorn wall.

 _They were climbing_ over _the wall!_

Diaval gave a startled croak, before turning around and flying even faster towards the crashing water, flying a little to its side before banking sharply and slipping between the water and the cliff face behind the falls before flapping his wings and banking even harder to the right to fly into the open space of the cave. More yelling reached his ears, and he scanned the cave desperately for any sign of Maleficent. It didn't take long for his eyes to adjust, considering that the cave was as equally dark as it was outside, and he spotted a dark form huddled against the back wall. It was Maleficent, black robes pooling out beneath her, and Diaval coasted over before landing carefully down by her shoulder, cawing to try and catch her attention.

She didn't respond in any way, other than to make a soft noise in her sleep, and Diaval flapped closer. He cawed again, pulling gently at her hair to try and wake her up, but she didn't react, and Diaval cawed a little louder, pulling on her hair again. She jerked suddenly, her eyes opening as a gust of wind shoved him off balance, pushing him away from her.

"Ma-Mistress," he corrected himself quickly, startled by the sudden onslaught of magic.

Maleficent's eyes found him, and they flashed briefly before clearing. "Diaval," she said, her voice sharp, and the bird regretted waking her so roughly as she sat up and glared at him. He tried to apologize, but awkward squawking came out instead of words, and Maleficent made an impatient noise before flicking her fingers, and he found himself a man once more, kneeling on the ground before her.

"Diaval, what…?" she started to say, but he interrupted, his voice strained with urgency.

"The king is leading a troop of soldiers towards the Moors; they've just breached the thorn wall."

"What?!" She was on her feet, her eyes flashing violently, and Diaval scrambled quickly to his own feet, trying to calm her as he felt her magic threatening to tear into something vulnerable.

"Ronin and Balthazar are holding them off, but I wanted to let you know, just in case…" he trailed off as she reached for her staff, propped up behind her, and the orb at the top turned black.

"Lead the way," she commanded, and turned him into a raven before he could even begin to protest.

He sighed, and flew out of the cave, skimming the edge of the waterfall with his wings. Looking out into the darkness he could see the torches bobbing at the wall, but he couldn't make out any figures, whether those of the Guardians or of the soldiers. He flew towards the wall, his wings beating out a steady rhythm. Glancing down, he was startled at no sign of Maleficent, and he cursed himself at having forgotten that she couldn't move as fast as he could. Even in human form, he often had to contain his long strides to match her quick, short, stiff ones.

He circled back around and swooped low, flying over her head before slowing his flight enough to be able to stay close to her. She seemed to sense his intentions and frowned, glaring up at him, but Diaval could see some concern in her eyes.

"I'm fine, Diaval," she said quickly, waving him away. "Go on ahead and see what is happening, I'll be there."

He nodded once, then dove ahead, gliding silently and quickly towards the thorn wall, keeping his eyes peeled for any signs of a fight, but somehow there was nothing to be seen. The darkness seemed stifling, and Diaval landed on a tree just on the outskirts of the forest, scanning for the king or his men.

 _"_ _Diaval!"_ The tree beneath him shifted, and Diaval cawed in alarm before relaxing as he recognized the guardian.

 _"_ _Ronin!"_ he cried. _"No, sorry. Balthazar."_

Balthazar grunted unhappily at Diaval's mistake, but didn't mention it, and Diaval used the silence to probe the tree for answers.

 _"_ _Where are the soldiers?"_

 _"_ _On the other side of the pool,"_ came the answer. _"They haven't see us yet, and they appear wounded, so Ronin and I agreed to hide and see what they were planning before attacking them."_

 _"_ _Maleficent is on her way,"_ Diaval said, and was almost knocked off the branch when Balthazar started.

 _"_ _You told her?"_

 _"_ _Of course,"_ Diaval said, cawing angrily. _"She needed to know!"_

Balthazar began to respond, but then stopped at the sound of a twig snapping in front of them. Diaval strained his eyes and saw the king, surrounded by his men, and he flew off towards them instantly, landing just outside their line of vision in a tree close by.

"They know we're here," the king was saying, his voice low. "And I'm sure that by now, she does as well, and is on her way to try and stop us."

"Sire?" One of the men spoke up, and Stefan's gaze turned to him, and the man shrunk under the intensity of his glare. "What are we to do when she does arrive?"

Diaval heard Stefan mutter a curse, and then he spoke again, quieter than before, and he couldn't make out his words, but he did catch the sudden gleam of metal, and the harsh smell of iron, and he crowed involuntarily, flapping his wings and flying off his perch. He had to warn Maleficent!

"What's that?"

"It's the bird!"

"Grab it!"

"The net!"

"Ready…fire!"

Diaval felt a searing pain through his body, his left wing suddenly refusing to cooperate, and he flapped awkwardly, crowing in pain and confusion as he plummeted towards the ground. He hit rather hard, and felt something snap, and more pain, and he thought there might have been blood, but then everything was smothered in darkness, and Diaval realized he was trapped inside a cloth sack, and he felt the same claustrophobia he had felt when trapped underneath the farmer's net. He could hear the soldiers shouting and cheering, congratulating themselves on their capture of him, and he was afraid, not for himself, but for Maleficent, who was walking into a trap without even knowing it, and there was nothing he could do.


	6. Plans pt 2

**Hey guys! I decided to be merciful and post this chapter a little early, since I felt bad ending on a cliffhanger, and you were all getting very upset. ;)**

 **I know some of you have wondered about the direction I'm taking this story in. My head-canon is just a little different than what is seen in the movie, and is based on Disney's Sleeping Beauty as well as the cut scenes that didn't make it into Maleficent. I was disappointed when I went back and watched the scenes, since I felt it fleshed out and developed the characters a lot more, especially Stefan. His motivation is never given for what he did, and it's assumed it was just lust for power and greed, but the cut scene shows something a little different, which is what I'm playing with here.**

 **Anyway, on to the story! Thank you so much for your reviews, and I'm glad this story means so much to you. *Warnings for violence and blood, but nothing extreme.***

 **Also, I realized I've never done a disclaimer, so here it is: I do not own Maleficent or Sleeping Beauty in any way shape or form. If I did, I'd be rich and probably on an extensive trip around the world.**

 **Hope you enjoy the chapter, and sorry for the long author's note! Don't forget to review!**

 **\- Raven**

* * *

Stefan stood at the base of the thorn wall, staring through the tangle of darkness and trying to ignore the complaints of the men behind him. They had brought no catapults this time, the only fire residing in the torches they all carried. But they wouldn't need fire to get through the wall, because they were going to go over. Stefan had noticed before that several of the thorns jutted out straight, and the entire hedge seemed to overlap and stack up upon itself in a sort of pattern, and he had come upon the idea to try and climb the wall.

As confident as he was of their success, a part of him, (the part he often ignored), wondered why he was doing this. And then he would remember all those years ago, when he was still a boy and just a server to King Henry, and the words of advice the man had given him, and he would think of what could happen if Maleficent ever tried a more serious path of revenge. He knew that if he didn't stop her now, before she got the chance….

"Sire?" one of his men spoke up, breaking him out of his reverie, and he grumbled a curse under his breath before turning cold eyes to him.

"We were just wondering, how you intended to get past the wall." The man's voice was hesitant, and Stefan felt his irritation increase.

"You dare question your king?" he snapped, and the man paled, exchanging a glance with the other troops before stammering out an apology.

"Not at all, Sire," the man said, bowing his head in deferral. "Curiosity, and nothing more."

Stefan lifted his chin, his eyes flashing, but then he forced himself to relax, and turned back to the wall.

"We are going to climb it," he announced, and he could hear his men shifting nervously behind him.

Igoring their murmurs and shifting, Stefan reached up and grabbed hold of a thorn, pulling himself up with both hands and hanging for a moment, before placing a foot down on a solid thorn jutting underneath him. He heard his men beginning to stir, cursing and calling for him to stop, but he blocked them out and continued climbing. He eventually heard more movement, and glancing down he saw one of his soldiers beginning the climb as well. He smiled to himself, then continued his ascent, reaching the top within a few more moments.

Swinging his leg over, he winced as he felt the thorns pierce his leg, and he gritted his teeth, pulling his leg up and tearing it further, and he couldn't help the low noise of pain that slipped past his clenched teeth. He panted slightly, then swung his other leg over, turning as he did so he now faced the thorns once more, then carefully began lowering himself down, trying not to jostle his injured leg. He lowered his foot tentatively, and breathed a sigh of relief when he felt solid ground beneath him. He dropped to the ground, pushing his body away from the thorns and landing heavily on his injured leg. He crumpled immediately, a cry of pain escaping him, and the first soldier over, the one he had seen on his ascent, dropped beside him, and he didn't bother to pull away from the too familiar hand on his shoulder.

"Sire, are you alright?"

He waved a hand, and the man backed away, allowing him to rise for himself, and the man took his torch from his belt and lit it once more, and Stefan finally got a glimpse of his injury. His pant leg was torn, and blood seeped through the gash in the fabric. Rolling up the fabric, he had to bite back a curse as he took in the sight of the wound. It was deep, much deeper than he would have thought possible, and he had the sickening feeling that that was muscle he could see, glaring at him through all the red. The cut started just above his ankle, and extended halfway up the side of his calf, deepening as it went, and he knew that must have been when he had torn it further coming down.

The rest of the men had gathered at this point, and Stefan straightened, noticing that a few bore wounds as well; one was binding a gash on his arm, while another bore several small cuts on his face, though none were as severe as his own. He took his knife from his belt and copied the soldier's movements, tearing a strip of fabric from his cloak and tying it tightly around his leg, testing his weight to see if he would still be able to walk. He winced, but was able to walk, though he limped pretty heavily. He was just grateful he had made it this far.

He turned to his men, who were all standing and staring around them warily, torches lit and swords drawn. He had chosen them well; they would be able to accomplish this. He motioned to them and they gathered around him, eyes still scanning the area.

"What is the plan, Sire?"

Stefan kept his voice low and urgent as he answered. "I will meet her with two of you, making it seem as though I simply came to demand she surrender, while the rest will come from behind and overpower her."

"And if _she_ overpowers _us_?"

"She won't."

He could see a few anxious glances being exchanged, but then his eyes caught on a small dark form watching them from the trees and he cursed.

"It's her pet," he sneered, pointing to the bird, and his men quickly made to try and shoot it down.

"The net!" someone yelled.

There was a brief scramble, but one of the men succeeded in shooting down the raven, and it was quickly stifled into the sack he had brought for the very purpose of capturing it. There were cheers and sighs of relief, but Stefan hissed a warning and his men fell silent around him, swords once more at the ready. A rustle sounded a few feet in front of them, and so silently that not even Stefan noticed, three of his men slipped back into the shadows, snuffing their torches and sheathing their swords to aid in their subtle retreat.

And then, there she was, just as dark and cold and fierce as she had been the other day, and Stefan drew himself upright, murmuring a few steadying words to his men, who shifted anxiously beside him.

"Maleficent," he said darkly, his lip curling with disgust.

"Stefan," she said, just as darkly, though her tone was surprisingly calm given the circumstances. "To what do I owe this pleasure? Surely the Queen hasn't fallen ill again so soon?"

The false concern in her voice made him all the more angry, and he gripped the hilt of his sword, assuring himself of its presence.

"No," he growled, his teeth clenched.

"Then why have you come?" She would have sounded bored, if it weren't for the dangerous light in her eyes.

"I think you know why," he said, and she gripped her staff as tightly as he now gripped his sword. "It's time we ended this."

"I couldn't agree more," she said, a small smile creeping onto her face as her eyes scanned him and his men. "But I am noticing a distinct lack of an army. I think you're becoming over confident, Stefan."

She made a small twirling motion with her free hand, and a gust of wind blew his hair out of his face. He ignored it, drawing his sword, and he could hear his men doing the same; six swords drawn against none. She laughed then, a dark, throaty chuckle that sent a chill down his spine, her hand still twirling, the breeze picking up.

A scream diverted Stefan's attention, and he paled as he realized the three men, who had circled around and had been coming at Maleficent from the ground, were now dangling several feet off the ground, limbs flailing and gaining height with each twist of her wrist. Her eyes were locked on him, though Stefan could do nothing more than watch in steadily growing horror as his men rose until they were close to the tree's tops. She suddenly flicked her wrist, and there was a sickening snapping sound, and a small tap of her finger sent one the men plunging to the ground, his neck broken.

Behind him, the other men cursed, but Stefan just stared, too stunned to really do anything. She had really killed him. The thought terrified him, because for all her wickedness, he had never thought she would go so far as to kill someone, not even him. But she had, and she was.

Another flick, another awful snap, another soldier falling to the ground dead.

"Enough," he found himself saying, his voice sounding hoarse to his ears. "Enough of this."

Her gaze never faltered, she simply inclined her head slightly, indicating that she had heard him; but her expression told him quite plainly that she had no intention of stopping. The last solider was suspended upside down, and he was pleading with her, his voice choked with desperation. She frowned, her head tilting to the side thoughtfully, as though debating the best way to kill him, and she made an imperceptible movement of her wrist, ready to snap his neck just as she had the others, but suddenly a hand grabbed her from behind, pulling her back and holding a sword to her throat.

Stefan felt a smile pull at his lips, his confidence returning. Not content to watch his fellow soldiers die, one of his men had crept up behind Maleficent and caught her off guard. His hand was on her shoulder, his iron gauntlet burning her skin, and Stefan could see her features twist with pain, though she gritted her teeth to keep herself from crying out.

"Here's how we're going to do this," the man whispered huskily. "You're going to set him down _gently_ , and then, you're going to surrender."

She let out a short laugh, though it sounded more like a cry than anything humorous. "You invade my land, come into my home -uninvited, I might add; attack me, and you expect me to surrender. Tell me, why would I do that?"

"Because if you don't, your pet will die."

There was confusion in her face for just a moment, not having expected that threat, but then clarity flooded her features and she cursed, struggling against his tightening grip.

"What have you done to him?" She snapped, her voice dangerous.

"Nothing," Stefan heard the man say, his voice smooth. "Yet."

Maleficent cursed again, but then her face went blank, even her eyes became closed off, and Stefan felt a horrible feeling of dread before suddenly she raised her hand, and the soldier drifted down to the ground, collapsing to his knees and heaving, his body shuddering with relief at finding himself alive.

"Very good," the man said, his voice still smooth, but carrying a mocking tone now. "Now…"

But his words were cut off as Maleficent moved, swinging her staff backwards and striking him a vicious blow to the head, and he crumpled. But Maleficent was still moving, her eyes flashing violently, meeting the first soldier who came at her and ducking under his attack, her magic lashing out at him in response and throwing him backwards. Stefan didn't see where the man landed, but he heard the sickening **crunchsnap** as he hit something solid, and knew he wouldn't be getting up again.

Maleficent was coming at him now, but he was ready, and as she swung at him, instead of attacking back, he stepped into her space, bringing the hilt of his sword up and catching her a blow to the chin. She stumbled, but quickly regained her balance, and Stefan found himself flying through the air, a dizzying sensation of weightlessness overtaking him before he slammed into solid ground. He was on his feet the moment he hit, and ducked under her next blow, turning and striking her from behind, knocking her off balance once again. Stefan glanced up and grinned, his eyes lighting with a sadistic glint.

Maleficent noticed the look on Stefan's face, but she didn't register why until too late. Too late she saw what he had seen, and this time she did cry out as the remaining two soldiers grabbed her, a sword sliding in and out of her body all too easily, and she crumpled, her staff the only thing keeping her from collapsing completely as she brought a hand to her stomach, drawing it away bloodied. Her eyes flickered, looking up at Stefan, who towered over her, completely prepared to end it right there. She scanned the ground, looking for something, anything that she could use to save herself…and her eyes landed on a small burlap sack. Her lips moved, silently forming a name.

 _Diaval._

"Any last words, Maleficent?" Stefan's voice was oddly blank, and she could feel the adrenaline beginning to fade, the full force of her injury slamming into her and taking her breath away, and a wave of dizziness crashed over her, her vision blurring. She gasped, fighting the darkness threatening to overtake her, and she could just make out the outline of a small bag. She flicked her wrist weakly, one final statement slipping past her lips.

"Into a cat."

Then the darkness took her, and she knew no more.

* * *

 **Mwahaha! Yes, I am that evil to end with another cliffhanger. Hashtag sorry-not sorry. I know, no one probably says that anymore but the point is there. Any way, I'm sorry if you were all hoping to find out what happened to Diaval this chapter, but I had to get into Stefan's head and show his interactions with Maleficent first. But I promise, next chapter is all Diaval.**

 **Also, I apologize if Maleficent seemed a little OOC or excessively cruel in this chapter. I was trying to get to the heart of some of her actions and feelings, and as is shown in the beginning of the movie with the Battle for the Moors with King Henry, she is not above violence and killing in order to protect her home. So, that is my reasoning for that. Still, I'm sorry if it upset you guys.**

 **I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and please, don't forget to review!**

 **\- Raven**


	7. Wounds

**Hey everyone! So sorry for being late on this chapter, though I must say I'm glad no one sent an angry mob after me for the delay. Here is the long awaited chapter, and I hope you guys enjoy it. It's a bit of a doozy: almost 8 thousand words, but I didn't want to split it because too much happens and I didn't want the effect to be ruined by another split.**

 **Warnings for violence and brief mentions of blood, though nothing graphic.**

 **Also, there's quite a bit of foreshadowing in here, so read carefully if you don't want to miss it. Props to everyone who catches it! I dug deep into the emotional side of things here, so be warned it might get a little intense.**

 **Hope you enjoy the chapter and sorry again for being late.**

 **Don't forget to review!**

 **\- Raven**

* * *

Ch. 7- Wounds

Diaval saw the transformation before he felt it. His feathers changed to a thick, oily fur, and his first thought was, _No, not a dog!_ But then he thought of all he had heard, the horrible scenarios his mind made up, and the final cry from Maleficent, and he thought he might actually want to be a dog. He could almost feel himself tearing into their throats; could practically smell the blood and taste it on his tongue…and he shuddered, remembering once again why he hated dogs.

But he wasn't a dog, he realized, as the transformation completed. He was too small to be a dog, but still rather large, and he stretched out, his claws tearing through the sack like it was paper. He realized with a hint of glee that he was a cat again, the same wild cat Maleficent had turned him into when he had scared Stefan away, and he growled low in his throat, reveling in the cries of terror the soldiers gave upon seeing him.

He lowered himself to the ground, feeling the shadows cloaking him, and he snarled, exposing his teeth, and the soldiers holding Maleficent needed no further encouragement than that. They let her go, and she dropped with a sickening thud, and Diaval rushed to her side, turning his back to her and keeping the men away from her, his fur bristling and teeth bared viciously. The soldiers seemed to be trying to decide whether to flee or not, and when one dared to come too close, Diaval swiped at him, tearing at his leg, and the man cursed, limping back to a safer distance.

He almost cried with relief when the trees on either side of him shifted and stirred suddenly, becoming the fierce forms of the twin Guardians. One foolish soldier stepped forward boldly, thrusting his torch at the smaller form of Ronin. Diaval watched as the Guardian blinked at the useless move, and with one swift swing of his spear, the man was no more. It didn't take much more than a warning growl after that to convince the remaining enemy that today was not their day.

After a few nasty looks and curses, the last soldier picked up his comrade's fallen torch and retreated. Stefan gave them a long glare, promising revenge, before he, too faded into the darkness.

Only once he was sure they were gone did Diaval allow himself to relax, and he turned to Maleficent, who lay unconscious on the forest floor, and he realized with a horrible jolt that the blood he had smelled was in fact, hers. He was by her side in a heartbeat, and nudged her side, turning her over to face him. He felt his breath catch as he caught sight of the wound, blood still trickling from her side. The sword had gone in on and angle, he realized as he examined her closer, through her back and coming out her side, just barely missing any vital organs, for which he was truly grateful. But she was still bleeding heavily, and unconscious, and he panicked as he realized he was still a cat, and knew nothing about healing wounds.

 _"_ _Diaval, what's happened?"_ It was Balthazar who spoke first, his voice harsh with worry as he took in the sight of his mistress lying prone on the ground.

"Sword," he managed to get out, moving aside as the tree warrior stepped closer. "She was stabbed by a sword. One of Stefan's men, I didn't see who."

Balthazar grunted in response, reaching down and with a surprising amount of gentleness for one so large, scooped Maleficent up into his hands, cradling her in his palms like an infant. He looked up at Ronin, and muttered a few words in their native tongue, which Diaval didn't quite catch, and turned, marching back in the direction of the Pool of Jewels. Ronin took a different path, and Diaval made an alarmed sound before taking off after Balthazar, anxiety making him feel sick as he strove to keep pace with the Guardian.

His head spun without warning, and he stumbled as the earth pitched beneath his feet. He was vaguely aware of Balthazar stopping, and his name being called, but for whatever reason he was having trouble lifting his head. He blinked slowly, hearing his blood pounding in his ears, and he gradually registered that somehow, he was in pain. The ground lurched again, and Diaval struggled to make sense of what was happening as he tried to rise to his feet, but his left paw wouldn't cooperate.

 _"_ _You're wounded,"_ Balthazar grunted, and Diaval blinked again, staring down in surprise as he saw dark red dripping from his shoulder. _"Why didn't you say something?"_

Balthazar's voice sounded almost agitated, and Diaval would have teased him for his worrying if it weren't for the fact that he had forgotten and that it _hurt_ and he couldn't quite feel his fingers -well, toes. He remembered suddenly the arrow that had pierced him as he had tried to fly away, and he realized that the shaft was what he had felt breaking when he fell.

He looked up at Balthazar helplessly, and the Guardian grunted again and resumed his march, though it was much quicker than before. Diaval limped along after him, keeping his paw tucked close to his chest and forcing himself to forget his own injury in favor of focusing on Maleficent's own.

Ronin was waiting for them when they reached the pool, a small vial in his hands, the liquid contained within it a rather suspicious shade of red. Balthazar said something and stretched out the hand not holding Maleficent, gesturing for the potion, and Ronin pulled the cork from its stop before coming over. Diaval skittered nervously as the massive Guardian suddenly knelt beside him and grumbled something that Diaval wasn't able to make out.

 _"_ _Show him your shoulder,"_ Balthazar said in translation, and Diaval brought his head up sharply, shaking his head back and forth. He had no idea what that stuff did, and he wasn't about to waste time on himself when Maleficent was obviously more important.

He told the Guardians such, and they exchanged a look before Balthazar huffed a sigh and moved to the edge of the pool, muttering something about Diaval's stubbornness. He started to retort, but Balthazar barely even acknowledged him as he crouched by the pool, gently placing Maleficent in the waters, cloak and all, keeping his hands under her to keep her from sinking or floating away. Only once she was settled in the water did Ronin step forward, handing the vial to Balthazar. Diaval stayed on the bank of the pool, prancing nervously back and forth, wishing there was something he could do, and desperately wanting to be the one holding her in his hands.

He caught himself, wondering where that thought had come from, but before he could analyze it, Balthazar called his name, and he leapt forward (too eagerly), and stumbled into the water. Ronin rumbled out a laugh as Diaval quickly retreated to the safety of dry land, but Balthazar simply frowned, and nodded his head pointedly at Maleficent, and the atmosphere quickly turned cold again as Ronin remembered the severity of the situation. Diaval nodded at Balthazar, indicating that he was listening, and the Guardian hesitated a moment before speaking.

 _"_ _The waters will cleanse the wound, and the potion will stop it from getting any worse._

"Is there a chance that...," Diaval hesitated, then forced himself to continue. "That she won't wake?"

 _"_ _Of course she will wake!"_ Ronin snapped indignantly, though there was a touch of fear in his eyes.

"I meant," Diaval corrected himself, his eyes locked on Balthazar's, the claws on his right paw digging deep into the dirt in anxiousness. "Is there any chance that when she wakes, she won't heal?"

 _"_ _None that I can see,"_ Balthazar replied stoically, though Diaval could hear doubt in his words, and he gritted his teeth in a silent snarl and turned away, limping a few feet before coming back again.

On his third turn, Balthazar spoke again, an urgency in his voice. _"If I am to do this, it needs to be done now, if there is_ any _chance of her recovery."_

Diaval nodded, moving quickly to be as close to Maleficent's side as he could get without entering the water or jostling his arm. Balthazar knelt in the water, one hand cradling Maleficent's body while the other moved to pour the liquid into the wound on Maleficent's lower back, the potion the same crimson color as the blood which now tainted the water around her. Diaval thought he heard the Guardian mutter something like an apology, but he didn't have time to question it. As soon as the potion hit her skin, Maleficent jerked, a ragged intake of breath signifying her pain. Balthazar winced, and Diaval growled, but was ignored as another drop went into her wound. Her eyes flew open, and a full cry of pain tore from her throat, her body stiffening as once again the potion dripped into her back.

"Stop," Diaval begged, his paws beginning to sink into the mud as he shifted anxiously back and forth. "Please, just stop."

 _"_ _I'm sorry,"_ Balthazar said in response, and Diaval wasn't sure who he was speaking to. Maleficent's eyes were flickering rapidly back and forth, desperately searching for something, though they closed again as she cried out once more, and Diaval made an anxious noise in his throat and shifted again, and her eyes opened to lock on his, a harsh gasp slipping past her lips, her fingers twitching by her side, a soft gold dust swirling at her fingertips.

"Into a man," she whispered, before her breath caught in her throat as another drip of the potion was poured into her wound.

Diaval felt the familiar tugging sensation as the magic rippled through him, his bones snapping and stretching, reshaping, and he quickly found himself on his hands and knees, mud slipping between his fingers. Instantly he was crawling forward until he was in the water as well, his good arm gently sliding under Maleficent's body, while his free hand inexplicably found hers. For once, she didn't protest the closeness of his body to hers, or his fingers gently brushing her knuckles in a soothing manner, and Diaval didn't know whether to feel relief or concern over the fact.

Balthazar removed his hand and let Diaval hold her while he shifted his attention to her side. The vial was only half empty, and Diaval could feel Maleficent tense as the first few drops made it into the wound. Her eyes met his for a moment before darting away as another low noise of pain sounded in her throat. He tried not to focus on her, knowing that she was ashamed by her 'weakness,' as she would put it, and instead watched as the skin around the wound turned pink, the gash itself slowly coming together with each careful drip, the blood beginning to slow its rapid spilling out of her body.

When Balthazar finally drew his hand away, the vial was empty, and both of Maleficent's wounds were closed, although still tender, and Balthazar was forced to help Diaval carry her out of the water, though Diaval knew by the gleam in her eyes that he would be wise not to continue holding her for much longer. Ronin had left the scene about halfway through the process, though he now returned, and knelt to hand Maleficent her staff, which she accepted with a grateful nod, the orb at the top filling with a swirling mass of blue and black. Diaval set her on her feet, though he kept a gentle hand on her arm as she adjusted herself, before quickly drawing it away, lest she turn him into a bug. Her face was expressionless, as usual, but Diaval could see the pain in her eyes, and in the way she gripped her staff; her knuckles white against the woody surface as she started to leave the pool.

 _"_ _Diaval,"_ Balthazar called him before he could follow. He turned back to see the Guardian giving him a pointed look and holding up another vial of the red potion. Diaval started, wondering where he had gotten it from, but then surmised that Maleficent's staff wasn't the only thing that Ronin had wandered off to get. He glanced back over his shoulder at Maleficent's retreating form, and he heard Balthazar grumbling under his breath.

"I have to be sure she's alright," Diaval pleaded as he turned back to the Guardian, and Balthazar shook his head in exasperation, but Diaval knew he had won. Balthazar made him promise that he would return afterwards to be healed himself, and the man agreed before starting out after Maleficent.

He followed at a safe distance as she made her way slowly through the Moors, ready to steady her if need be, but she didn't waver once, and they made it back to the tree they had been using as a nest, since the Rowan Tree was, for Maleficent at least, inaccessible. The sky had darkened considerably by the time they made it back, and Diaval watched as Maleficent ducked under the branches and into the center of the tree, slumping against one wall. Somehow she managed to make it seem intentional, even graceful, if he dared to say so, and at a small touch from her, her magic quickly made lengths to dry her clothes.

Diaval shifted nervously outside the rim of branches, unsure what to do. He wanted to stay with her and make sure she was alright, but he didn't want to risk upsetting her. He knew, too that he would have to return to the pool at some point, and he would much rather sooner than later and not have to draw it out. Maleficent glanced up at him and frowned, and he decided to enter the tree. Just as he made his way over to a spot opposite her, he stumbled, and it wasn't nearly as graceful as her misstep had been.

"Diaval!"

Her voice was full of alarm as she called his name, and he silently cursed himself for not managing to conceal his injury better. He registered that she was somehow helping him to his spot, her expression almost frantic as she began to search for the problem. He started to say that he was fine when her fingers found his shoulder and he flinched, hissing in pain. She stopped, apologizing, but it didn't take long for her to press for an explanation.

"It's nothing," he tried again. "A scratch; really, I can barely even feel it." Which was, in part, true. His whole arm was practically numb, and the only problem had come from the pressure of her hand on his shoulder.

"Diaval," she said sharply, her expression darkening in disapproval as she stared at him.

He wilted under her gaze, and sighed, shifting slightly so she could get a better look. "It was an arrow," he admitted quietly, as she resumed her examination. "I was spying with Ronin and Balthazar, and when I tried to fly away…." His words broke off as she leaned back from him, her eyes full of sorrow as she stared at him.

"This was my fault," she said softly, and he started, alarmed by her words.

"No," he said quickly, pushing himself up carefully so he faced her. "No, it isn't."

"I could have done something," she insisted. "Kept this from happening."

"There was nothing anyone could have done...not even Ronin or Balthazar." _Or you,_ he added silently. "It wasn't anyone's fault."

Well, aside from the soldier who had shot him, but Diaval was pretty sure that man was dead, and not likely to bother them any time soon.

"I wasn't there for you," she whispered, so quietly that Diaval barely heard her. He wasn't even sure he was supposed to have heard, and he decided to tread carefully this time and not say anything.

She looked up at him, and her expression flickered before assuming an air of professional calm. She made a circular motion with her hand, wisps of golden magic curling around her fingers before swirling gently towards him. He shifted nervously as the magic enveloped his shoulder and began probing at his wound similar to how she had, but this time it was to put everything back together. He stiffened, and wasn't able to contain the ragged noise of pain that slipped past his lips as the feeling suddenly returned to his arm, and he saw Maleficent wince at the sound. He gritted his jaw and wished that he had some of the strength she had. He was sure that the process she'd had to go through had been far worse than what he was experiencing now, and he doubted he could have managed it as well if he'd been in her place.

He could feel the magic pulling at his skin, sealing the wound and knitting it back together. He let out a shaky sigh of relief and carefully shrugged his shoulder as the soft golden glow dissipated, and he was pleased to find that he could move it again, and he could feel his fingers once more.

"Thank you," he said sincerely, looking up at Maleficent. She pursed her lips in a tight smile and inclined her head slightly before settling back against the trunk of the tree. He started to do the same on his side of the nest, then shot upright as he suddenly remembered his promise. Maleficent's eyes opened and flicked over to him at his movement, and strove quickly to assure her nothing was wrong.

"I just forgot, I promised Balthazar I would let him know that everything was alright," he said, and she nodded in understanding before waving a hand at him and turning him into a raven.

He cawed once gratefully before flying out of the tree and heading towards the pool to find the Guardian. Balthazar was waiting right where Diaval had left him, and he nearly laughed at the look of surprise on the Guardian's face when he landed on his shoulder.

"Maleficent healed me," Diaval explained quickly, and Balthazar nodded, sighing in relief.

 _"_ _You are both alright, then?"_

"Well, I wouldn't quite say that, but we're almost alright." It was an honest answer, and Balthazar managed to smile, but it fell quickly as his gaze turned to the thorn wall, barely visible in the growing darkness.

 _"_ _He's getting bolder,"_ the Guardian rumbled. Diaval ruffled his feathers anxiously, knowing exactly what he was referring to. _"Something big is coming, I can feel it."_

"Would the Moors be able to stand against an actual attack?" Diaval asked hesitantly, unsure how he like the sound of 'something big.' "He didn't bring much of an army with him this time, but if there were a next time, and he did…would we be able to hold?"

Balthazar was silent, and Diaval ruffled his feathers again as the whole of the Moors seemed to go silent as well. Finally, he answered.

 _"_ _There was a time when we could have, but as we stand now…,"_ the Guardian shook his head wearily. _"No."_

It wasn't the response Diaval had been looking for, and it was only made worse with the Guardian's next words.

 _"_ _The wall can only keep out so much;_ he _proved that much. Something must be done to turn the tide, or else I don't know how well we'll stand against an army."_

"But what about the Moor creatures?" Diaval asked, desperate for some hope. "The Mud Bogs and the Fairies? Wouldn't they fight, too?"

Again, that crushing silence as Balthazar hesitated before speaking. When he finally did, it was slowly and carefully, as though he didn't like what he was saying but had to say it anyway. _"They would fight, of course they would. But not for long, and not alongside Maleficent."_

"What?" Diaval crowed in shock and confusion. "What do you mean they wouldn't fight with her?"

Balthazar sighed, cringing, and Diaval knew he thought he'd said too much. _"It's a difficult situation, Diaval. You wouldn't…it's hard to explain."_

Diaval didn't see how it was difficult at all, but he understood hard explanations, at least. He ruffled his feathers again, disapproval and sadness in the action this time, but he let the matter drop, though he intended to pursue it later. He looked across the pool and realized how dark it was, and decided it was past time he returned to Maleficent. He flew from his perch on Balthazar's shoulder, cawing a goodbye as he went, and made his way back to the nest.

He was quick to swoop inside, and didn't hesitate to perch on her shoulder, smoothly settling himself neatly in the crook by her neck. She reached a hand up to rub his feathers, and for all her rough edges he never failed to notice (and appreciate) the gentleness with which she always completed this action.

"Thank you, Diaval," she whispered to him, and he chirped softly back, ruffling his feathers, which batted her ear gently. He thought he saw her smile at that, but he couldn't be sure. He wasn't quite sure what she was thanking him for, either, but he tried to tell himself that it matter much, anyway. All that really mattered was that they were both safe, and that the Moors and the other creatures were all still in one piece. It didn't take long for Maleficent to fall asleep, though Diaval stayed awake a while longer, unable to relax.

Why had Stefan attacked them?

It was the one question that continued to haunt him, ever since he first saw the light from their torches as he had flown overhead. He _knew_ why, of course, but he couldn't understand it; couldn't put together why the king had found the urge, and after Maleficent had saved his wife. It didn't make any sense, and he wished he could bring it up to Maleficent, but he knew better. And then there was everything Balthazar had said. He worried about what the next attack would bring, and if they would really have as little a chance as he said. He tried not let it worry him too much, but he couldn't help the fear that gripped him as he attempted to get to sleep.

Just as it found him, however, he was jolted awake by a sudden stirring beneath him, and he fluffed himself up indignantly, cawing into the darkness. It was only when a muffled cry reached his ears that he understood what was happening, and he quickly flew off of his moving perch to settle on a branch on her opposite side. Maleficent's face twisted into a grimace, pain etched into the lines between her brow, and Diaval let out a louder caw, hoping to wake her from whatever dream (or memory) was tormenting her now. She shifted, but didn't wake, instead letting out another short cry of pain, and Diaval flapped his wings to hover by her shoulder, waiting until she stilled to land again. He gently batted at her face with his wings, but it only seemed to terrify her further, and he ducked to avoid her hand as it shot out as though to strike him. He cawed, and flew up again, desperately trying to think of how to wake her. As he flew, a flash of light caught in the corner of his eye, and he turned his head to see Maleficent's magic floating several feet in front of her, the gold dust shimmering and flickering with violent shades of green sparking throughout.

He had never seen it before, but it didn't strike him as good, and against his better judgment, he left the tree, calling for Balthazar as he went. He found the warrior at the edge of the forest overlooking the Valley, his spear clenched tightly in his hands, alert as always. He looked up and watched as Diaval flew closer and landed on his shoulder his feather ruffled and sticking up slightly in the midst of his panic.

 _"_ _Diaval,"_ Balthazar acknowledged with a nod, though his eyes had once again turned to stare out to the edge of the Moors.

"Where's Ronin?" Diaval asked, looking around for the smaller of the twins.

 _"_ _At the wall,"_ came the reply. _"Why, what is it?"_

"Maleficent…" he started, then caught himself, unsure of how to phrase it.

 _"_ _Night terrors,"_ Balthazar finished, and Diaval didn't fail to notice the subtle clenching of his hands around his spear.

"Yes," he admitted. "But it's different this time. Her magic, it's…active," he finished lamely, wishing he had a better word.

 _"_ _Explain,"_ Balthazar grunted, rolling his shoulder subconsciously and knocking Diaval off balance.

"Well, it's never reacted like this before," he tried, hopping slightly to regain his position. "It's like a…barrier…and it's green." He felt like it was an important detail, and was rewarded when Balthazar stiffened underneath him.

 _"_ _Green?"_ he repeated, the anxiety coming through in his tone. _"Are you certain?"_

"Unfortunately," Diaval said, knowing exactly what Balthazar was thinking of, and thinking the same. "But it wasn't all green. Mostly, but it had green in it. I don't know what it means, but I thought it best to come and tell you."

Balthazar grunted in response, thinking over what he had said.

"Also, I can't wake her up," Diaval added, and Balthazar sighed, raising his head to scan the Valley beneath him, and the edges of the border beyond.

 _"_ _I cannot risk abandoning my post, as much as I wish to help,"_ he said, and Diaval could hear the heaviness in his voice. _"All I can advise is that you continue to try and wake her, but be wary of her magic. If it is trying to protect her, it could lash out without her realizing."_

Diaval nodded, thanking the Guardian anyway for his advice, and flying off, soaring quickly and silently back to his Mistress' side. He swooped low under the branches, giving a quiet noise of alarm as he saw the golden light of her magic, filling most of the small space, and he carefully maneuvered his way through and around it, feeling it ripple through his feathers as he flew. But he did make it through, and landed rather clumsily on her shoulder, cawing a little louder to get her attention. She shifted away from him, the gold light growing a little brighter, the green within sparking before fading away again, and Diaval tried carefully tugging at a few loose strands of her hair, and almost immediately her eyes shot open, green illuminating the entire space, and he cried out in alarm, flying straight up to avoid the sudden bolt of magic that threatened to fry him to a crisp.

Maleficent sat up, her eyes flashing dangerously, and Diaval realized a moment too late the dangers of waking her from a nightmare. Her hand stretched out and grabbed her staff, eyes scanning the area for what had woken her. He cawed softly, and her head whipped around, sharp eyes landing on his dark form where he huddled in the corner, and she hesitated, piecing together what had happened. The magic in the room evaporated as she settled back against the tree's trunk, though the orb at the top of her staff still swirled a chaotic mix of gold, green and black.

After a moment, Diaval figured it was safe enough to fly down again, and he once more rested on her shoulder, and he felt her relax as he settled back in his previous position, her fingers idly trailing through his feathers. There was silence in the tree for a while, and Diaval watched as the colors in the orb gradually faded and changed to a dark blue, gold swirling gently throughout.

Just as he was starting to wonder whether or not to bring up the subject of her magic, (and the nightmare that caused it), her hands stilled against his wing, and he inwardly tensed, unsure what to expect.

"Diaval," she said quietly, and he could just detect the smallest hint of annoyance, or even anger in her inflection. He cocked his head just a little, indicating that he was listening.

" _Don't_ wake me again."

He ruffled his feathers sheepishly, and her hand continued its movement down his back, the tension dissolving much like the magic had, though Diaval knew this wasn't the end of the conversation by far. But he respected her wishes, and he figured it might be safer for him anyway, if tonight was any indicator. He picked at his feathers a bit, fluttering his wings slightly, and Maleficent shifted her head slightly to accommodate him when he stretched. He finally settled down, and tucked his head under his wing, finally allowing sleep to catch up with him.

When the tree filled with light again, Diaval woke to find himself alone, perched on a branch, pale sunlight streaming through the cracks. He took a moment to wonder how he had gotten on his new perch, since he didn't recall flying there himself, but he shoved it aside and stretched, puffing himself up before flying out of the nest, looking for Maleficent.

A few of the other creatures were out and about, including (unfortunately) the Mud Bogs, and he ended up having to perform some impressive (if he did say so himself) acrobatics to avoid ending up with mud in his wings. He called a greeting to a few of the smaller fairies, who waved back or smiled tightly, anxiously glancing around for any signs of the Queen of the Moors. He found her by the thorn wall, walking its length and making small repairs as she went. She was just in the middle of mending a tear in the wall when he flew up to her, and she paused in the midst of it to turn to him, her fingers flicking in his direction and turning him into a man, and he took a grateful second to stretch his limbs before turning to walk with her.

"Good morning, Mistress," he finally spoke, breaking the silence. She inclined her head to him, her attention still on the wall.

"Diaval," she offered in return. "I trust you slept well."

The comment took him by surprise, and he faltered visibly, stammering slightly as he tried to think of a response. He thought it odd coming from her, especially considering the events of the night before and was trying to think of how to say such, but what came out of his mouth instead was a flustered:

"Yes, I did."

She didn't acknowledge his blunder, and instead continued smoothly.

"Good. I have a job for you."

And then it made sense to him, and he allowed a knowing smile to cross his face. "The castle again, I presume?"

It was the wrong thing to say, he realized when she stopped, her hand clenching around her staff and the orb on top turned that violent shade of green before hardening into a solid black mass. He opened his mouth to apologize, but she spoke again, continuing on as if nothing had happened.

"Yes." Her voice was cold now, and he wished he'd thought before speaking. "I know you are as curious as I to know why our friend chose to visit us last night."

He didn't answer, but she clearly wasn't expecting him to. Instead she flicked her wrist, and feathers coated his body once more.

"Find out all you can and return swiftly," she commanded. He nodded his understanding, and flew up and over the wall, the familiar shadows of the village beneath him, with the arching towers of the castle looming in the distance. It didn't take long to reach it, and he slipped in through the servant's window like he usually did, perching just on the edge of a washing line and watching the women bustle around and gossip, keeping his eyes peeled for any sign of the red haired girl he had been following during his previous visits.

He finally caught sight of her at the edge of the kitchen, and he flew over to her, landing on a cabinet just above her head. She started at the sound of his wings, then smiled as she caught sight of him.

"It's you," she said softly, a small laugh escaping her when he cawed softly at her. "Come to hear the latest news, then?" she asked him conspiratorially, and he chirped in response, hopping a little closer. She glanced over her shoulder, a nervous look coming across her face. She motioned to him, and he flew down to perch on her shoulder, and she draped a small wave of her hair over him, hiding him from view.

They travelled in this way out of the kitchen, and into a small hall just off the room. She followed it until reaching a staircase, which she took up to the familiar hallway leading to the Queen's bedchamber. Diaval chirped questioningly in her ear, but she shushed him and carefully pushed the door open before making her way into the room, the door closing just as soundlessly behind her. Diaval dared a glance, and saw the Queen, lying in the bed with a few nurses and serving women around her, one of whom resembled the girl almost exactly. It was to this woman that the girl moved to stand beside, and Diaval caught a better glimpse of the Queen, and he noticed that although her color wasn't as sickly as it had been before, she didn't look fully healthy either, and the whisperings and nervous glances only served to confirm his theory.

"Hanna," the woman said softly, surprise echoing in her voice. "What are you doing here?"

"I thought I could help," the girl, now known to Diaval as Hanna, responded. "How is she?"

"Better than before, but still struggling," was the whispered answer. "She won't be expecting for a time now, but King Stefan worries about his chances for an heir."

"But she will recover, won't she?"

"I don't know, dear. If Fate wills it." The woman pursed her lips, but when she saw the concern on the girl's face, she quickly strove to correct her expression. "If you truly want to help, then why not tell the kitchen to prepare some tea for Her Majesty."

Hanna looked about to protest, but she caught the woman's nervous look and nodded, slipping back out of the room unnoticed. Once back in the kitchen, Diaval perched once more on the cabinet, and watched the girl ask for the tea in question, turning over the information in his head. The Queen had, apparently fallen ill again, and Stefan was worried for her, or more exactly, worried about his throne. Which of course, must have prompted him to attack the Moors, if for no other reason than to give him something to do; something physical to make up for his helplessness here. He was rationalizing things, he knew; Maleficent would of course have a very different opinion, but he didn't expect any less.

He and Hanna delivered the tea when it was ready before returning to the kitchens, and Hanna slipped into a side room to gather the laundry hanging to dry. He flew from her shoulder and perched on the line, chirping to catch her attention. She looked up at him and smiled, but he could tell it wasn't quite as cheerful as it usually was.

"The men just came back from their scouting trip this morning," she said quietly, her voice solemn. "Six went out, including the King, but only he and his captain of the guard returned."

Diaval started at the words, and he shivered involuntarily, leaning closer to hear.

"Mariam's brother was one of them, and Sarah's husband. But of course, you wouldn't know who they are, even if you are a clever bird."

Diaval did, in fact, know who they were, having taken the time to memorize the names and faces of everyone he'd come across so far. Mariam was one of the cooks, and though she seemed stern, she would always save a few crumbs of something for him when he came. And Sarah was one of the younger servant girls, who always sang as she worked, and never seemed to go without a smile. But somehow he hadn't known that they had family working here as well, and he couldn't help feel sorry for their loss.

"King Stefan says that they were set upon by the demons that that witch keeps company with."

Hanna's voice turned harsh, and Diaval was startled (and more than just a little offended) when he realized he was talking about Maleficent.

"Even the trees themselves bent to her will, and helped her. His Grace says the captain is the only reason they managed to escape, says he ran her through with his sword, but they still fear she somehow cheated Death."

Diaval cawed to stop her, and he wished he could tell her how wrong she was, and how much he didn't like it when she talked like this, so not like herself. She hefted the basket of clothes onto her hip, and managed another tight smile in his direction.

"It's nothing _you_ need to worry about, silly," she said, forcing her light tone, though he could hear the bitterness she tried to hide. "It's not you she'll come after. It's us."

She turned and shoved open the door, and he shot up from his perch, his heart pounding anxiously as he flew, a sick feeling churning in his gut as he made his way back to the Moors. To hear Hanna speak of it, it sounded as though _they_ were the victims, as though Stefan were just a protector, an honest king doing what he could for his people. If only they knew the truth, what it was really like. But then, did he know?

He shook his head, not liking the confusion he felt as he tried to sort it out, and thinking of what his report would be. He wondered about the places he would find Maleficent as he went, but found Balthazar instead, standing guard just at the edge of the forest. He perched on top of his head, prompting a grunt of annoyance from the warrior.

"Where's Maleficent?" he asked, once he had settled and caught his breath.

 _"_ _Seems to be the only words out of your mouth these days,"_ was Balthazar's response, and Diaval ruffled his feathers slightly in embarrassment.

"Not the only words," he grumbled, and he thought the rolling grunts out of the tree's mouth might have been laughter, but it was hard to tell as his next words were so serious.

 _"_ _What happened last night? After you came to me for help."_

"I did manage to wake her up," Diaval answered. "Almost got fried to a crisp doing it, too."

Balthazar really did laugh this time, and Diaval fluffed himself up indignantly. _"She's at the Cliffs,"_ Balthazar said, and it took Diaval a moment to realize he was answering his original question. He flew up, cawing a thank you, and quickly made his way across the Moors to the impressive cliff face towards the very edge of the land. It was just beyond this cliff face that Maleficent's Rowan tree resided, and he wondered what she was doing secluded all the way up here instead of by the Pool, or even in the Valley, at the heart of the Moors.

When he arrived, however, he saw the reason why for himself, and he hesitated to approach her, and wondered if he could still fly away without notice. Just as he was thinking that, her head turned, and he knew she knew he was there. He flew over and landed on a nearby boulder, though she didn't turn him into a man right away. Instead, she turned away, not even acknowledging him, and he gave a nervous chirp, hopping slightly to catch her attention. He could see her face even better from where he sat, and it wasn't hard to notice the pale streaks on her cheek, or the slight glint in her eyes. She made an impatient noise at his chirp, but waved her hand anyway, and he knelt on the ground before her, knowing better than to bring up his observations.

"Well?" She snapped, when he didn't speak right away. He raised his head, caught off guard, but he remembered why he had come to her in the first place, and nodded quickly, standing up as he spoke.

"It seems the Queen is struggling to recover from her illness," he began carefully, and he noticed the amusement that flickered briefly across her face at his words, and he couldn't help but wonder if she had somehow been the cause of it, remembering the potion she had given him to deliver.

"Oh, come now Diaval, don't be ridiculous," she scoffed lightly. "Why on earth would I want to poison the Queen?"

"I didn't…" he stammered quickly, trying to defend himself.

"But you were thinking it," she countered, and he didn't try to deny it.

"I'm sorry, Mistress," he apologized, dropping his head, though he did catch the scowl on her face as he did so.

"What do they say troubles her now?" she merely asked, ignoring his apology.

"I don't know. But they do say that King Stefan," he faltered as her expression darkened at the name, but continued when she motioned him to. "They say he fears for an heir."

"What do you mean?" Her tone was sharp, but Diaval thought he heard genuine concern in her voice.

"Um, well I'm not sure," he shuffled his feet a bit, his hands tapping his legs in a nervous flapping motion. "The healers said something about 'times' and 'expecting,' but I don't know…what that…means."

He trailed off as the skies suddenly darkened. There had been no indicator of a storm in the sky that morning, and yet he could have sworn the clouds thickened, and he'd be darned if that wasn't thunder he heard. Maleficent had become so stiff he was afraid she had become part of the stone she now sat on. Then just as suddenly, the clouds cleared (as much as they could in the Moors), and the orb on her staff swirled with a few streaks of blue in the blackness.

"What else is there?" she said, her voice hard and full of so many emotions he couldn't decide which one to fear more.

He didn't want to have to tell her about Mariam and Sarah, or what Hanna had said about them, either. He still didn't know what to feel after hearing the news. He supposed he'd forgotten that there were actually other people involved, and he couldn't help but wonder how many others had been hurt, and would continue to hurt because of their actions.

"Diaval," Maleficent's voice brought him out of his thoughts, and he quickly stammered a response. .

"It seems the castle is taking their recent loss rather hard."

"Loss?"

"The men," he clarified softly. "The soldiers that King…that he brought when he attacked. Everyone is in mourning, especially their families."

Maleficent gripped her staff so hard he feared she would break it, and he wondered if he should have listened to his instinct and not told her that part. He watched as she frowned, standing from her seat across from him and pacing a few feet away, her staff clenched tightly in her fist and digging small holes in the ground with each step.

"There are those who speak of how dangerous it is for them, and wonder what it is that Stefan is doing to protect them. I would also hazard a guess and say that that could be why he attacked the Moors as well," Diaval continued, though she didn't acknowledge this either, and continued pacing, although he thought he saw her glancing out past the cliffs at times, as though trying to see past the gray rocks to her tree.

"Why are you all muddy, Diaval?"

The sudden shift of conversation caught him off guard, and he stared at her for a moment before it registered.

"Oh," he said, glancing down at himself and taking in the mud staining his clothes. "I flew into the Mud Bogs on my way."

"I see." Maleficent said, and Diaval could hear a hint of amusement in her voice. He nodded, shifting uncomfortably and wishing he could figure out a way to express his concerns such that he wouldn't anger her.

"Mistress?" He finally said cautiously, and there must have been something in his voice because she stiffened suddenly, the orb on her staff turning black. "I just…I was wondering about…what happened last night?"

There was more of that awful silence he was beginning to hate, and he watched as the blackness swirled like a cyclone before settling down suddenly.

"I'm sorry if I worried you, Diaval," she finally spoke, and her voice was soft, distant. "I hope…," and here she faltered a moment, her face twisting with an emotion he couldn't identify before smoothing over once more. "I hope I didn't harm you in any way."

"No," he said quickly, surprise causing him to scramble to his feet, and he didn't miss the way her hand clenched around her staff at his movement. "No, I'm fine. I was worried for you."

He thought it might have been the wrong thing to say at first, realizing there were so many ways she could take it, and not entirely sure which way he wanted it to be. But then she smiled, her lips flickering upwards oh so briefly, and she turned to him, acknowledging him fully for the first time since he arrived. "Thank you, Diaval," she said, and the surprise the gratitude brought must have shown in his face because she laughed as she made to leave.

"Are you alright, though?" Diaval found himself asking as he instinctively positioned himself by her side.

She gave him a brief glance that told him quite plainly he should stop talking, then started down the hill of the cliffs and back into the heart of the Moors. He sighed, and followed after her, knowing that he most likely would never get an answer, or at least, not an honest one. Regardless of how he felt, he knew it wasn't his place to question what his mistress did or didn't do, just to be there and do what she needed of him. Still, he sometimes wondered if it wouldn't have been easier if he had just stayed a raven, and not have to worry about all the conflicting emotions humans got themselves tangled up in.

* * *

 **Ok so, I guess first, congratulations on managing to make it through the chapter. I hope it wasn't too difficult or confusing, I tried to stay as consistent as possible with the events and the characters, but it was a bit difficult since Maleficent isn't really one to get all emotional and talk about feelings and stuff. ;)**

 **I'm no psychiatrist, but I did do a lot of research about PTSD (because, let's be honest) and how different people react to traumatizing situations, and I did my best to incorporate that but still keeping within the character's personalities.**

 **Also, I realize that there may be some confusion at this point with my allusions towards Aurora about when exactly this is set in the movie timeline. This is set after Stefan's betrayal and coronation, (obviously) but before Aurora is born. I do realize that Maleficent doesn't actually build her wall until after Aurora's birth and the curse- that is a continuity error on my part. But for the sake of the story, I thought it would be better if it were built sooner, which is my reasoning for that.**

 **I hope that clarifies things a little bit, and I'm anxious to hear what you guys think. This is a slightly different Maleval fic in that I'm not just plunging into things right away. This is definitely going to be a slow burn here, as I take the time to sift through everything emotions wise and come to some sort of level ground. I probably-definitely overanalyzed the movie as I watched and re-watched, but I'm a writer at heart, so what can I say?**

 **Anyway, don't forget to review, and I should have the next chapter up for you guys sometime next week.**

 **\- Raven**

 **P.S. To those who were wondering, I've decided to continue with my idea I mentioned in my last note. It won't be a part of this fic, but will be it's own story, and I will begin work on the outline for that shortly.**


	8. Thorns

***Just wanted to let you guys know in case of confusion that I deleted my Author Note and replaced it with the actual Chapter 7, so go back and read that if you haven't yet!***

 **Hey everyone! Well, I said I'd get it up for you and I did, just in time for Christmas, too! It's weird, but I still can't quite believe it's Christmas...maybe because of the lack of snow?**

 **Anyway, here's the latest chapter for you. I planned for it to be a bit lighter and humorous, but it ended up turning a lot more serious than I thought it would. I need to work on my 'humor', but it's hard writing humorous situations with this story, and with Maleficent in general, because a) she has a pretty dark sense of humor herself, and b) things don't really get lighter or better until Aurora, but not to worry! It won't be all dark and depressing. Except for now.**

 **I'm glad you guys are liking this story, and there's a bit more backstory in here for you. Quite a lot of dialogue and exposition, but it develops the plot a bit more, at least I think it does. Things will pick up a bit more next chapter, I promise, though that might not be up until after New Year.**

 **No warnings here, although I guess, potential triggers for the general heaviness of it. More Protective!Diaval here, and some H/C, as well as an appearance by the fairies. I apologize in advance for the way I've portrayed them, especially to those who like them. Some hints and foreshadowing, as well as a nod to the original Sleeping Beauty. Props to those who catch it, and thanks to Guest for the inspiration!**

 **Hope you enjoy and don't forget to review!**

 **\- Raven**

* * *

Chapter 8- Thorns

"Raven!"

"Oh, what's his name?"

"You, bird!"

Diaval started in mid-flight, looking down to see who was calling him. He had just returned from another quick scouting mission to the castle, finding things pretty much the same as when he'd left. Everyone was feeling the shock and fear, and grief that could only come from an unexpected loss. He had decided to give it time before returning, and had kept his scouting mainly around the Village.

Things were much different there. Instead of fear there was disgust, instead of grief; hatred. The people were furious with Stefan, it seemed, and doubted whether he was truly fit for his position. Many a longing look had been cast towards the Moors, he saw, and he heard people wondering what life would have been like for them if King Henry had succeeded. Diaval didn't quite understand that, but he resolved to ask Balthazar when he returned. The old Guardian seemed to know everything.

"Bird! Oh, why isn't he listening?"

"Figures he'd ignore us."

"Diablo!"

The strange name jolted Diaval out of his thoughts, and he peered towards the ground, surprised to see that he was already halfway across the lake. Three small figures were buzzing around near the rocks and arguing with each other, while simultaneously attempting to wave him down.

"I _told you_ that isn't it!"

"Well, then what _is_ his name, if you know so much?"

Diaval landed on a twisted branch jutting out from the water nearby, and opened his mouth to correct the creature when the smallest one said:

"Diaval."

All four turned to the small buzzing figure in green, who blushed and muttered, "Sorry."

Diaval blinked in surprise; he hadn't thought that any of the Moor creatures knew his name, and he couldn't deny there was a certain pride in the fact that this one did. He stared at the fairies expectantly, and when they didn't stop arguing, cawed loudly to get their attention.

"Well excuse me!" The pink one spluttered, and the blue one laughed before swatting at the butterflies circling her head. The green one smiled softly at Diaval, who was trying to decide if it was worth it to try and fly away. He didn't think he had the patience to deal with these three after everything that had just happened.

"There's no need to be rude!" The pink one continued in a huff. "Just because you've got bigger wings…"

"What she meant was…"

"I know what I meant!"

Diaval croaked in despair, and the fairies all turned back to him, the green one fluttering forward and speaking in a rush over the other two.

"Somethingneedstobedoneabouttheseattacks."

 _"_ _I'm sorry, what?"_ Diaval said, but the blue one rushed forward angrily and shoved the green one aside.

"It wasn't your turn to tell Flittle!"

"Well who else was going to tell, Thistlewit?" Flittle retorted, shoving back, and both Diaval and the pink one sighed in annoyance as they moved off to argue separate from them.

"Now see here, Diablo, or Diaval or whatever your name is," she said sharply. "You need to tell Maleficent that something must be done about these attacks."

Diaval stared, so flustered and caught off guard that he was speechless. But the fairy more than made up for his lack of words.

"You tell her, that if she can't protect us, then we'll go find someone who can!"

The furious indignation in her voice was enough to cause the other two to fall silent, and Diaval gave a confused crow as he tried to piece together what had been said and failed.

 _"_ _I'm sorry, what?"_ He said again, and the pink one growled something under her breath before answering.

"I believe I've stated things plainly enough."

And then it clicked. And then he was mad.

 _"_ _Are you threatening me?"_ he crowed, then he stiffened, his feathers ruffling furiously. _"Are you threatening_ her?!"

"No," the pink one snapped tightly, crossing her small arms over her chest. "Not a threat. A promise."

 _"_ _You ungrateful little…. What do you mean she's not protecting you? If it weren't for Maleficent, we'd all be dead or worse!"_

The pink fairy scoffed haughtily at his words. "If it weren't for Maleficent, we wouldn't be in this mess to begin with!"

 _"_ _What mess?"_ Diaval cried, exasperated. _"Where would you even go if you left? There's no place out there for the Moor creatures; it's just us or the human kingdom."_

"I'm sure we'd find somewhere," the pink one sniffed, and Diaval felt his anger fade suddenly as realization set in, and a cold feeling of fear settled over him.

 _"_ _You_ can't _mean… You would betray her? For_ them?" For him. " _What could you possibly hope to gain from them that you can't find here?"_

"Light." It was the blue fairy, Thistlewit who spoke up, her voice quiet but solemn, and Diaval felt himself sink even further as he understood what this was about.

"Be honest, Diaval," Flittle whispered, her fingers twisting the edge of her green dress. "When was the last time you saw light in this place?"

Diaval faltered, unable to answer. He had come after everything had changed, he was too late to know what the Moors was like before all of this had happened. And he knew, too, that her question wasn't simply a matter of how often the sun shone through the branches. No, she was asking about something far deeper than that.

 _"_ _But, you can't leave,"_ he said, his voice just as soft as hers now, pleading for them to understand.

"We can," the pink one said sternly. "And we will, if something isn't done. _Changed_. You tell her that."

And she flew up without another word, the other two following after her. Diaval stared long after they had gone, trying to understand what he was feeling right now, and why it was they felt things had gotten so bad they needed to leave.

'Tell her that,' the fairy had said, but tell her what? And tell her how? Diaval was pretty sure there would be nothing left of him if he did that. How was he supposed to tell her that her subjects wanted to leave the kingdom for another? Oh. Diaval straightened in surprise. Oh!

He cawed, feeling like he was close to something. He flew up and began looking for Balthazar again, holding onto his thought tightly lest it slip from his mind. It was a very familiar situation, wasn't it? The Moor kingdom and the human one. Vastly different, yes, but oh so familiar.

He spotted the towering form of the Guardian patrolling near the thorn wall, and so eager was he that he nearly slipped off his shoulder as he made to perch there. Balthazar grunted in surprise, but his exclamation was cut short as Diaval spoke.

"The fairies want to leave."

His sentence was enough to make the Guardian freeze, so completely that Diaval feared he may have turned into a tree again until he spoke.

 _"_ _What? What fairies? Who's leaving?"_

"The three sisters," Diaval clarified. "The flower ones, what're their names? Thistle-something?"

 _"_ _Thistlewit, Flittle and Knotgrass?"_ Balthazar said.

Knotgrass, so that was the pink one's name. Diaval made note of it to himself, and nodded in answer to the Guardian.

"They think it's too dangerous here, and they plan to find somewhere better. Safer."

 _"_ _How could they possibly think that?"_ The shock in the Guardian's voice was so similar to Diaval's own reaction, and the bird would have laughed if it weren't so important.

"And that's not the worst part," Diaval said, cringing as he thought of it. "They mean to leave for the human kingdom."

Balthazar tensed and went silent at that, but it was the type of silence that promised nothing good could come of it.

 _"_ _What else did they say?"_ Balthazar's voice was low and dangerous, and Diaval felt a twinge of fear go through him at the Guardian's tone.

"Something about light was involved," Diaval said carefully, and he felt the Guardian relax beneath him, though it was more a slump of defeat than an actual release of anger.

 _"_ _I see."_

But Diaval didn't, and was about to say such when the Guardian spoke again, his voice heavy.

 _"_ _It's because of…they were always a bit spiteful but this…"_ Balthazar sighed, shaking his head, and Diaval flapped his wings nervously.

"Tell me," he crowed, anxious to know. "What did they mean by light? It's never been light here, just grey and…"

 _"_ _It_ has _been light here, Diaval,"_ Balthazar said, his voice heavy with grief. _"There was a time when it was nothing but light."_

"I know what you're going to say," Diaval said, his nervousness growing as he realized. "It was _before_ wasn't it? Before Stefan-"

 _"_ _Yes,"_ Balthazar sighed. _"It was before."_

"Tell me," Diaval pleaded again. "I need to know. I need to understand."

Balthazar seemed to hesitate, before finally, he nodded his head, and Diaval practically held his breath in anticipation as he began to speak.

 _"_ _The Moors have always been separate from the human world, since the beginning. There had been hope that the two worlds might be able to unite, and come together in peace. But the humans have always been a difficult breed, always wanting more, and willing to do whatever it takes to get it."_

Diaval nodded. He understood this much, at least.

 _"_ _The human king of Maleficent's youth wasn't content to sit by as an idle neighbor when the splendor of the Moors was brought to his attention. He thought he could conquer both kingdoms and have them for his own, and when he told the people of his plan to take the Moors they thought it could be their chance for a greater life. It was around this time that Maleficent first met Stefan."_

"The Pool of Jewels," Diaval said, remembering the story.

 _"_ _Yes,"_ Balthazar nodded, a fond look coming across his face as he thought, but it was quickly wiped away. _"I should have killed him then, and saved us all this pain. But she wasn't afraid, though she should have been. She didn't quite understand just how much cruelty a human can possess, especially towards their own kind. To her, humans were just as mysterious a legend as we are to them."_

"But still they became friends?" Diaval asked carefully, ruffling his feathers.

 _"_ _Friends, yes…and something more. But they learned from each other: he about the Moors, and she learned about life in the human world."_

"But if they were so close, why did he betray her?"

Balthazar gave a wry laugh. _"I'm sure we all would like to know, Diaval. You would have to…no."_ He caught himself quickly. _"No, don't ask her."_

"But I still don't understand!" Diaval crowed. "What happened? And where was everyone else? Wasn't…" he paused, his voice lowering to a pitiful whisper. "Wasn't there anyone with her?"

Balthazar went silent again, his expression falling further with grief and pain. _"No. No, there wasn't."_

Diaval opened his mouth a few times and closed it again, stunned. He had feared that might have been the answer, but the truth was still hard to hear. It pained and angered him even further as he thought of it, and in a twisted way, he understood what Balthazar had meant when he'd said the Moor creatures wouldn't stand with Maleficent if there were a war. They hadn't stood with her when Stefan betrayed her, so why would they stand with her now? And yet, though he understood, he didn't know why. There was something missing, he knew, but he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know.

 _"_ _Many things happened in the aftermath,"_ Balthazar continued, his voice still heavy with grief. _"Many things changed, including Maleficent. The defining moment, I believe, was when she made her throne."_

Diaval started, surprised. "I was here for that!" he cried, maybe a little too enthusiastically. "I remember that."

He shivered, remembering a feeling of wrongness as he'd perched on her shoulder, watching as all the Moor creatures gathered around them. He couldn't remember if they had bowed, but there was a certain shift in the air, a definite 'something' changing.

What was it, though? He thought to himself as he flew back over the steadily darkening Moors. And how was he supposed to share the latest news with Maleficent? He had asked Balthazar what he thought, but the Guardian was of the opinion that silence was the better option, at least for now. Diaval didn't like the idea of keeping secrets from her, but he also didn't like the idea of actually telling her, either. He cringed, dreading what her reaction would be, and decided Balthazar might be right. News like that, on top of the recent events, would make for a very bad situation.

He reached the nest sooner than he thought he would, and perched on an outside branch, peering in to find it empty. He had suspected it might be, but he thought it never hurt to look, considering she could be anywhere. Her resting places changed as frequently as her moods; although, he noted, recently she had taken to spending a lot of time at the Cliffs…

Diaval complained silently to himself as he flew in that direction. The Cliffs meant she wouldn't be in a particularly social mood. It meant that she wanted to be alone; that she was upset; that any number of bad things could be happening. The Cliffs were where she went to brood; those moments when the orb on top of her staff turned black. Or moments when she couldn't- or wouldn't- sleep, and would spend the night pacing around the rocky space and making Diaval extremely nervous with her constant glances out to the castle.

He braced himself for what he might find this time as he approached the Cliffs. The sky was so dark that he nearly missed the shadow curled in the niche between two boulders, and he banked sharply to turn himself around before swooping low over the spot. It was her, he was as he drew closer, though she didn't even raise her head to acknowledge him as he landed on the boulder to her left. Her gaze was focused on something in the distance, and he inwardly cringed as he followed it with his own eyes, expecting to see the shadowy outline of the castle.

Instead, he saw the Moors stretching out beneath them, the trees thorny sentries piercing the black sky. If he stared hard enough, he could just make out the shadow of the Rowan Tree in the distance. Closing his eyes, the sounds brought the place to life; the waterfalls crashing to the rocks below, while hushed chirps and calls echoed all around. He opened his eyes again and looked to Maleficent, and he knew she wasn't seeing the beauty of her home at all. Her eyes were unfocused and distant, as though she were seeing something else entirely. Glancing down, he saw her staff gripped tightly in her hand, the orb at the top a hard mass of inky blackness.

He looked back up at her and cawed softly, hoping to divert her attention from whatever memory gripped her now, and she blinked slowly before turning her head. He fought hard not to flinch back from the look in her eyes, empty of life and yet full of emotion, as though her memories were playing out in them instead of around her. She turned back and went still again, and Diaval fluttered his wings nervously as he tried to think of how to bring her out of this. He remembered her earlier warning to never wake her from a night terror again, but did this count?

He looked out to the sky, which was now almost completely dark, and he wondered just how long she had been out here to begin with. He had to get her back to the nest, but he was in no position to be able to do that. He ruffled his feathers again and flew over to perch on her knee, and she blinked again but didn't stir. He preened a little, more out of habit than an actual desire, and decided that if nothing else, he could sit and wait. He could at least be there for her in this way, and if that was all he could do, that was what he would do. It was what he was there for, anyway.

He huddled down and watched as the clouds shifted and the noises of the Moors retreating into silence. The sky darkened, then took on a silver tint as the moon began to rise, a mere sliver of crescent light in the midnight pool. Diaval felt sleep begin to pull at him as he sat, and he focused on preening again to keep himself awake. The stars were starting to come out, he saw, and he managed to identify a few constellations. The two Dippers were easy, as was Orion, being the first constellation he'd learned the name of. But finding the Pegasus was hard, since it was upside down and he couldn't turn himself around to look.

A slight touch on his wing drew him abruptly out of his search, and he ruffled his feathers in surprise. He settled quickly as he realized what it was, and he held his breath, not daring to move again for fear it would ruin the spell. But the touch came again; a slow stroking of a few fingers, and he turned his head subtly, watching out of the corner of his eyes as Maleficent stirred for the first time in hours to stroke his feathers again. Her eyes met his briefly, and clarity was back in them

He could have crowed from sheer relief and happiness, but he refrained, and instead flew up to perch on her shoulder, settling himself in the crook of her neck as close to her as he could get. She shifted her weight and settled even further into the rocks, but when he looked, she hadn't closed her eyes. He doubted that she would, but he stayed awake with her a little longer, watching as the orb on top of her staff stirred, and the black cleared before becoming a shade similar to the silver-blue calm of the sky above them. Diaval smiled to himself, and closed his eyes, feeling that, for now at least, things would be alright.

* * *

 **Like I said, a bit heavy, but I promise, things will get lighter! Just gradually. I personally didn't care for the fairies all that much in the movie, but that might have just been the way they were portrayed. They were a bit different in the original Disney Sleeping Beauty, and I'm alluding to that, as well as the build up to the cut scenes I had mentioned before that I am including here.**

 **Next chapter features some more flashbacks, and a switchover in POVs. I won't tell you whose POV, though, to keep it a surprise. ;)**

 **Don't forget to review, and I hope you all have a Merry Christmas and a Happy Holiday Season!**

 **\- Raven**


	9. Blur

**Hey guys! Hope I'm not too late updating for you, things have only just settled down after the holidays, and I only have a short time to recover before life picks up again.**

 **Happy New Year, to start. Hope you all had a restful holiday!**

 **In regards to this chapter, no violence, but mentions of wounds are made.** **Glad you're all enjoying the story, and I'm looking forward to hearing what you guys think of my POV shift. The flashback I had planned did not end up making it into this chapter, but will instead happen next chapter.**

 **I also slipped in a subtle Game of Thrones reference. Props to those who catch it, and Direwolf puppies to all who review!**

 **\- Raven**

* * *

A dark room, brick walls cracking and stained, showing its age in the multitude of markings and wear. A single window, barred and shut tight from the elements and prying eyes alike. A tall, narrow case, secured on a platform with glass and iron. Chains enveloping its contents in a cruel mockery of an embrace.

A lone figure, pacing back and forth in front of it, his breath misting slightly in the air in front of him and testifying to the cold.

It shouldn't have been cold, he mused as he paced, his robes flowing behind him with each step. Considering how high up they were, it should have been stifling hot. He glanced at the case to his right and frowned, the lines in his face deepening at the action.

 _Your fault that it's so cold,_ he thought, and the case's contents stirred.

 _'_ _Your_ _fault.'_

"I had no choice," he defended, his voice rough and his words slightly distorted by his accent.

There was a slight flutter from the bound object, but he ignored it and turned, pacing a few feet further.

"It was the only way; you would have been killed, otherwise. I had planned at first but…" his words trailed off as he thought, then another sharp flutter broke his focus.

 _'_ _Traitor!'_ A hiss of pain, then a low, mournful sound. _'Why?'_

"Why?" he scoffed, frowning, then paused, turning thoughtful. "Why?"

 _How black is your heart, Stefan?_

King Henry had been commanding even while dying, and his words stuck with him even now. Ruling a kingdom was hard, and no one had known more than Henry how hard it was. The man had decided that the only way to properly rule a kingdom was with hardness, no weaknesses allowed. Stefan understood the man's ideas, even reveled in them. And yet…

 _Is your heart black enough to rule?_

A dull rattle sounded in the space, and he shot the disturbance a sharp glare.

"Don't look at me like that! I can hear you judging me; screaming at me. What else was I to do?"

 _'_ _Kill…'_

"I should have," he admitted quietly, stilling his pacing to stare at the case full on. "I should have been able to, there was nothing stopping me."

 _'_ _How black…?'_

"Not enough, I suppose." His voice turned bitter. "Not enough to do the one thing necessary to end this before it started."

His voice rose in pitch and intensity, and his feet resumed their angry march. "Not enough that I didn't feel! That I couldn't strike! ' **Kill**!'  That's what I was told! And what do I do?"

 _'_ _Steal. Break. Destroy.'_ The voice whispered fiercely.

His breath caught in his throat, a churning feeling rising inside him. "Enough," he said hoarsely. "I didn't mean for an answer."

 _'_ _Shatter. Wound. Cripple.'_

The accusations came harder, faster, like knives cutting through his very core.

 _'_ _Ruin. Chaos. Despair. Anger. Hate. Lie!'_

"Enough," he said again, but it was weak in the face of the wings beating against the glass, straining against the iron chains and pounding the words into his head.

 _'_ _Betrayed.'_

 _Loved,_ he thought pitifully, a poor shield against the voice, which echoed around the room until it became a chorus.

 _'_ _Betray!'_ They insist fiercely, and his anger stirs briefly in his answer.

"Protect!"

 _'_ _Trap! Deceive!_ _Take_! _'_

"I-" he began, but was stopped again.

 _Thief._ The word was a hiss, a final poisonous dart as the wings settled back in their prison, and a harsh slam behind him ended any further protest he might have made.

"Your Grace?"

Stefan growled a curse, and his back remained facing the door as he answered. "I thought I made it clear I was not to be disturbed."

"Forgive me, Your Grace." The voice as least had the decency to sound ashamed. "It's just, they said I'd find you here, and they're waiting for you."

"They?" Stefan turned from the wings to see his squire hovering just outside the open door, his eyes wide and nervous as he took in the trembling case.

"The Council, Sire," the boy offered in explanation, and Stefan cursed again, having forgotten that they were supposed to meet today. He nodded to his squire, who backed hastily out of the room, and cast one last look at the captive wings before following.

He entered the Council Chamber to find his counselors already arrived and talking in low voices, though they broke off as he approached, dipping their heads in respect. Stefan nodded back, feeling that he would never quite get used to that. He hadn't been shown much respect from anyone as an orphan boy in the Village. The only respect he'd ever gotten was from….

"Sire, if you are ready?"

Stefan resolved not to think of it, and focused instead on the task before him: getting through this meeting.

"Yes," he said quickly, nodding his head to show his readiness. "Let's begin."

He took the parchments they gave him to sign and studied them closely before pressing his seal into the wax. The statements that he was unsure of he would set aside and say he would consider further before making a decision. His Councilors never approved of his actions when he did this; they thought it was paranoia, or an unnecessary precaution.

It wasn't unnecessary or paranoia, Stefan reasoned to himself as he set aside another parchment. It was instinct. He had learned the hard way to never really trust what was offered to him, and to always question acts of good will. If you weren't careful, you'd be trapped, and he didn't intend to be caught being duped by one of his 'trusted' advisors. He could see from the looks in their eyes what they truly thought of him, and he wasn't about to risk turning his back.

"If that is all for the moment," he finally said, waving away the rest of the papers and promising to resume signing tomorrow.

"Nearly, Your Grace," Cyrus said, stopping him from rising.

Stefan didn't have an official Hand of the King. When he had first been crowned, it wasn't long until he discovered that many of the castle were still loyal to Henry, and thought that Stefan was a usurper who had manipulated his way to power. Then of course, there were those who still viewed him as an urchin from the streets, and had refused to recognize his authority.

Cyrus had been the one to approach Stefan to tell him these and other secrets he hadn't known, and helped him come into his throne and weed out those who had wished to replace him. And so, unnofficialy, Cyrus had become his Hand, and was the only one of his castle that Stefan explicitly trusted. Even though the man had told him multiple times just how bad an idea trusting him was, Stefan couldn't help it; the man had proven himself.

"You see, Sire," Cyrus continued carefully, his hands folded in front of him. "The Council and I," he made an exaggerated circling motion with a finger, showing it was really just the Council. "Believe that something needs to be done."

"About what?" Stefan drawled, hating it when Cyrus became cryptic like this.

"About the Moors, and the state of the kingdom in general."

"What do you mean? Speak plainly, Cyrus," Stefan commanded, and the man smiled, spreading his hands.

"Don't I always?"

"Enough games!" One of the counselors snapped, standing from the table. Cyrus frowned, but bowed his head anyway and took his seat.

"Your Grace, while no one is denying your…accomplishments, there are those who are wondering just what it is you are doing about these _creatures_."

"And of course, there's the matter of the other kingdoms as well," another member broke in, standing from his seat. "There haven't been signs of progress with any of them."

"I've signed the papers _you_ put in front of me," Stefan snapped, just barely managing to not raise his voice. "Sent the envoys you told me to send. Ended the wars between kingdoms that Henry started, and put a stop to the threat from the Moors."

"And no one is arguing that, Sire," Cyrus put in from his chair. "It's just…."

"Just _what_?" There was something dangerous in his voice as he responded.

"There are rumors, whispers one hears," Cyrus continued, standing smoothly. "That the threat of the Moors hasn't really been stopped."

Stefan felt his blood run cold at the words, and the standing counsel-men slowly took their seats. But Cyrus wasn't finished yet.

"There are some who say that your success was merely a cover, and wonder if their king isn't just playing some twisted game while leading us all to our deaths."

"If I had more men," Stefan began, but Cyrus cut in before he could finish.

"And what would you do with those men? Launch another useless attack on the Moors?'

"Useless?" _Whose side are you on, you treacherous snake?_

Cyrus spread his hands, but there was a meaningful glint in his eye as he stared at the king.

"If Maleficent-"

"Don't. Say. Her. Name." Stefan's voice was as cold and angry as he felt, and Cyrus made an apologetic noise before continuing.

"If the witch really is vanquished, then there should be nothing left to fight."

"Do not mistake the battle for the war," Stefan growled. "Just because the Moors no longer has a Protector, does not mean there is nothing left."

"Protector?" The same skeptic counselor stood slowly, and Cyrus took his seat once more.

"Leader, to put it simply," Stefan said dismissively. "The Moors doesn't work the same as a typical kingdom. Instead of Kings and Queens there are Protectors; one who does not rule above the rest, but is a Guardian, who keeps the land and its people safe."

"You sound awfully familiar with the ways of the Moor kingdom," the man said, a sly look on his face.

"Know your enemy," Stefan answered firmly, refusing to let his emotion show on his face. It was one of the first things he had been taught about the place, and he was surprised he still remembered it. But what had made him say all of that?

"I know my enemy," he continued, "but what I _don't_ know is why none of the other kingdoms have responded. The envoys I send return with nothing but excuses and platitudes."

"That is what I wanted to discuss, Your Grace," Cyrus stood so quickly his chair grated against the stone floor. "The only way to gain their support is through a union. King Henry, for instance, had hoped for a union with the Moor kingdom. Now of course, while the ambition is…was admirable, he lacked the one thing to make it really work. An _heir._ "

"You're not suggesting…?"

"No, no, of course not, my Lord," he assured with an easy smile. "No, but you can join with one of the other kingdoms. My fellow council members are in agreement on this, and we've picked a few matches that we believe are suitable. With your future heir already on the way, there is no better time for a union, if Your Grace is in agreement."

Stefan looked around the table, surprised and startled. He supposed he had thought about finding a match for his child, of course, but he had hoped that that decision wouldn't come for several years yet. Though seeing the nodding heads, and realizing that they actually _were_ all in agreement, he knew the luxury of time would not be given to him.

"I see," he said slowly. And he really did see, but still…. "You will forgive me, of course, if I discuss this matter with the Queen before moving forward."

"Of course, my Lord," Cyrus bowed, and Stefan stood, nodding his head to dismiss the council before departing.

No one saw the large black bird perched in the windowsill suddenly lift off, but its cries echoed with chilling intensity as it flew off towards the kingdom of the Moors.

* * *

Maleficent was slow getting up that morning. So slow, in fact, that she was forced to turn Diaval into a man to help her.

 _'_ _You see,'_ Diaval scolded her in his mind as he supported her enough to stand. _'This is why we don't hide out in remote places for hours on end, or sit in one position without moving and altogether making me extremely anxious,'_ But he knew better than to say any of it.

Instead, he lent her his support, and pretended not to notice when she gritted her teeth and hissed in pain. He handed her her staff, noting that the orb was still and colorless in his hand, but instantly flared to life the moment her fingers closed around it, dark shades of gold and purple and green swirling within. The green had startled him, but he relaxed as she did, and the gold and purple won out. Then he followed along obediently as she made the long trek back down into the center of the Moors.

Now he was perched with his back to her in a tree above her head, flapping his winds in embarrassment and nervousness as she bathed in one of the pools below. This particular pool was set apart from the others that connected and joined to form the Pool of Jewels. A waterfall served as a curtain, deterring any prying eyes, while several rocks and sandy patches surrounded the place to make it a cove of sorts, further sealing it off from view. It was really very beautiful, and Diaval tried to focus on that instead of…well, Maleficent.

He had been doing very well ignoring the situation, preening and tucking his feathers back into place, listening to the waterfall (definitely not the soft splashing below him) wondering how the trees managed to grow in the water instead of on land, and just what was it that made the water of the pools change colors. He was rather proud of himself actually, and was doing very well until…

"Diaval."

He started, and very nearly turned his head before he remembered and turned back. He was pretty sure that if he had been human at the moment, his face would have been red. What was that called again? Blushing. He would have been blushing. As it was, he merely ruffled his feathers sheepishly and gave an awkward caw in response.

"What did you discover on your scouting trip yesterday?"

Oh. He had almost forgotten that with all the stress of the night. He opened his mouth to respond and then closed it again, giving an apologetic chirp. He heard her quiet noise of realization, and a soft splash signifying a movement from her. He scrabbled at the branch beneath him as his feathers rapidly fell away, and he clung tightly with still forming fingers as he was suddenly changed.

"A warning would have been nice," he said, once his voice had formed and he'd caught his breath.

She simply hummed at him in amusement in response, and he sulked a moment more, frowning at the tree trunk instead of turning his scowl to her.

"The report, Diaval," she said, and there was a trace of sternness in her voice.

Diaval sighed, but obliged, albeit grudgingly. "There's not much to report, really. Things are quiet, for now, anyway. I say we enjoy it while it lasts."

She made a thoughtful sound, and Diaval tapped his fingers nervously against the bark of the tree, fearing he may have stepped too far out of place with that last remark. But she didn't respond in any other way that to make a noise of agreement, and he listened as the splashing increased for a moment before settling back, and he assumed (with a hint of relief) she had finally come to shore.

"Mistress," Diaval said to the air. "I was wondering-"

"No."

He started at her sharp tone, unable to see her small smile of amusement.

"You don't even know what I was going to say!" he protested.

She sighed, but was silent, and he tried again, plunging on lest he lose his nerve.

"I've been talking a lot with Balthazar lately, and I was wondering…well there's just so much I still don't understand and I was wondering if you…"

"No."

And there was a finality in her voice that told him it would be wise to not push things further.

He grimaced in frustration, and tried to decide if it would be worth it to ask anyway. He decided he might as well try; he'd never know if he didn't ask. He opened his mouth and started to speak, but what came out instead was: "Aw! Aw! Aw!" as he perched once more as a raven.

 _'_ _That's not fair!'_ He cried, flying up from the tree and cawing angrily as he made a small circle around the tree. _'Just because you don't want to hear….'_

His cries fell away suddenly as he came around to face her. She sat on a rock with her back to him, her fingers combing carefully through her hair as it fell across her shoulder. He realized vaguely that he should turn away again, that he shouldn't be staring like this, but it was her back that had caught his attention.

Just below center of her shoulders were two bony protrusions, almost like joints, that shifted and moved as she did, stretchy and stirring like muscles. _Wings,_ he thought, realizing with a twinge of sadness, then he faltered again as something else caught his eye. It was long and pale, standing out in sharp contrast with her skin, thick and twisted almost like a vine as it extended from the top of her shoulder and well down, nearly past her shoulder blade. A scar.

Its twin stood out starkly against her left shoulder, and Diaval felt a deep pang of…what, he couldn't decide. Pity, sorrow, pain? What was he supposed to feel? All of it and more, he thought. Guilt, too, as his own wings were so inherently a part of him he seldom thought of it.

He didn't have much time to think on it as Maleficent straightened suddenly, and Diaval realized with an even deeper pang of dread that she had noticed his staring. Her magic stirred, and instantly moved to redress her in her robes, the fabric settling around her shoulders and hiding the marks from view. Diaval flapped his wings hard as he landed carefully back in his tree, though he shot back up again as Maleficent's hand closed around her staff, and the orb at the top turned green.

 _'_ _I'm sorry, I'm sorry!'_ he crowed, his words spilling rapidly over each other in his haste to get them out. _'I didn't mean…I know it was rude…wasn't trying to stare…I just…I'm sorry!'_

She stood, and he squawked in alarm. _'Going, yes! I'm going-I'm leaving!'_ He scanned the area quickly, desperate for a way out. Why did the cove have to be so closed in!?

"Diaval."

Her voice was cold as it called him back, but there was something else there that he couldn't determine. He cringed, but banked and came back around, flapping his wings clumsily in his nervousness, preparing to land on a rock several feet away. Instead he ended up dropping as he came in, stumbling over his feet before coming to a stop just in front of her. He took a step back for safety, and tried to calculate his odds of survival.

 _Orb: still green. Chances: slim, run while you still can._

"I'm sorry," he finally said quietly, shuffling nervously back and forth. "I didn't mean to be rude."

Any further apology he might have made was cut short by her raised hand, gesturing in a 'stop' motion before falling back to her side.

"It was rude," she said stiffly, and he opened his mouth to apologize again but faltered when she gave him a look. "But you are forgiven, though I _will_ be speaking to Balthazar about these conversations."

He cringed at that, and noted that she hadn't said that it was alright, just that he was forgiven for it. If he was being honest, however, it wasn't alright, but he wasn't going to complain or push his luck. The orb on her staff was still swirling, but with black now instead of green, and he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad one. He decided it wasn't the time to ask, and kept his distance as they left the cove, heading back into the heart of the Moors.

She turned him back into a raven, and even though he had said he wouldn't go back right away, he found himself flying to the castle. He slipped in through the servant's entrance behind one of the handmaidens gathering laundry, and flitted carefully from shadow to shadow, wishing he could be something smaller and quieter…maybe a mouse. Something that wouldn't rouse as much suspicion if he were seen. He resolved to bring it up to Maleficent at some point, though he wasn't sure how she'd take to the idea.

He found himself perched in the window of a large, open chamber, listening as King Stefan met with all his councilors. The growing gloom of evening cast the figures half in darkness, the torches lit within throwing garish shadows on the walls behind them. He couldn't understand half the words that were spoken, unable to follow the thread of court politics. But he did understand that there would soon be a large number of royals coming to visit, and he wasn't sure he liked the idea of even more kingdoms joining to Stefan's own. It would surely mean trouble, and even another war, if the kingdoms decided to join armies as well. He had heard all he needed to, and flew back towards the Moors to find Maleficent.

He was startled to see just how dark it had gotten when he returned. It wasn't the usual grey-black darkness of the place, and Diaval felt that something wasn't right. He flew to the large, twisted shape of the oak tree they used for a nest. It was even darker here, and so quiet that even the noises of the other creatures had been muffled into nonexistence. Diaval's feeling of unease grew as he drew closer, and he stopped short as the nest finally came into view, landing in a nearby tree to stare in shock.

The nest was alive with color. A fine, mist-like aura shimmered and flickered with violent shades of blue, black, purple, green, red and gold. It filled every nook and cranny of the place, and cast the surrounding area in eerie shadow, and Diaval didn't like it one bit. He braced himself and dove straight down, swooping low and gliding through an open space in the branches. He felt the magic pull at him the moment he was inside the nest, and before he was fully prepared for it, he found himself crashing to the ground as a man.

He pushed himself up onto his feet, but then ducked as a particularly aggressive bolt of red mist lashed out at him. It was a new color, and Diaval wasn't sure what it meant. But if it was anything like green…he shuddered, and scanned the nest for Maleficent. He found her curled up tightly within one corner, her robes draping over her and almost completely concealing her from view. He wouldn't have even seen her if it weren't for the amount of light that filled the nest.

He ducked another bolt of red and hissed a curse as he started to pick his way over to her. The golden haze of magic was rapidly diminishing and being overpowered by the starker, harsher colors of green and red, and Diaval thought it would have been almost festive if it weren't for how violently the magic was reacting. Another curse slipped past his lips as the gold died completely, the black of night beginning to creep in and add to the sinister air.

He pressed himself close against the bark walls of the tree, inching his way closer to Maleficent's sleeping form. She wasn't tossing or turning as he had expected her to be, but her whole body was tense and tightly coiled, as though ready to spring up at a moment's notice. Her sharp features were made even sharper by the tumultuous burst of magic, illuminating the expression on her face. It wasn't angry or pained, but it bordered between the two, settling into a sort of bitter-sweet tilt of her lips.

Diaval flinched as a sudden spark of green lashed out at him again, and he darted towards Maleficent, landing by her side and reaching out a hand unthinkingly to grip her shoulder. A sharp crack like lightning sounded, and white flashed behind his eyes before a familiar and painful pull ripped him from himself. There was a dizzying sense of weightlessness, and then, he fell, a silent scream accompanying him into the darkness.

* * *

 **I _know_ , what _is_ it with me and cliffhangers? Next chapter is on its way, though how fast depends on you. **

**In case anyone was interested, this chapter is called 'Blur' because of all the lines that are being blurred: Stefan is beginning to blur the lines of sanity and reality, and Diaval is blurring the line between a neutral Servant and Mistress and...something else. ;)**

 **Don't forget to review, and hopefully I'll see you guys soon with Direwolves in tow.**

 **\- Raven**


	10. Echoes

**Hey guys! Sorry it's been so long since updating, this chapter didn't come easy, but it is here at last. Thank you to everyone who reviewed, it really means a lot to hear what you guys think and I'm glad you're enjoying. To my guest reviewer, Loz, here is a direwolf puppy, just as promised. (even if you aren't a GoT fan ;))**

 **Anyway, about this chapter. It's a bit longer for you guys, and features that flashback I promised you last time, as well as another POV shift, but with a twist. You'll see when you read, but do let me know if it's too confusing. I did my best to clarify through the chapter but I know it may seem a bit weird.**

 **No warnings here, just a good deal of fluff and feels towards the end. Hope you all enjoy and don't be afraid to let me know what you think in the reviews!**

 **\- Raven**

* * *

He was lying on his back in a tree when he opened his eyes. The tree's branches curled around him protectively as he nested, and looking straight up, he could see the sky, clear and bright blue above him. A shimmering of gold caught his attention, and his eyes focused on the light flow of magic, which rippled gently and smoothly as it lifted something into the air. He shifted his weight and focused on it a bit more, and realized it was a doll, or two dolls, rather. Crudely made from twigs and leaves and odd bits of hay and wire and cloth, but Diaval still recognized them as fairies; a girl and a boy holding hands and dancing as the magic lifted them further and further into the air.

The wind picked up suddenly, rustling the leaves, but the dolls continued to spin cheerily, unbothered by the gale. A dull, sharp crack sounded, and the dolls dropped into the nest. The tree shivered, and Diaval felt more than heard the hushed whisper of pain. He scrambled up, inching along the branches on all fours, feet pressing surely against the wood, hands pulling him forward, and wings flapping gently to help keep his balance.

 _What?_ Diaval thought. _I don't understand…wings, and feet, too? But I'm…_ A bird, he wanted to say, but somehow he knew that wasn't right.

He was at the edge of the branch now, and he could see where the wind had broken one of the smaller limbs in two. His hands came up to cup the break, and he saw that they were smaller than his own; paler and almost-childlike? His eyes closed, and he could feel something stirring inside him, a gentle pulling, rippling sensation like Maleficent's magic when felt it changed him. He opened them again and smiled when he saw the branch, healed and perfectly straight, leaves gleaming once more in the sun.

"There you go."

He had said it, but he was startled to hear that his voice wasn't his. It was softer, younger, and distinctly feminine. He didn't have time to understand, because another voice was nudging at him, gentle and excited, playful and so happy.

 _Let's go!_

He stood straighter on the edge of the branch, his wings flapping briskly, one, twice. He leaned forward, and a cry of alarm was on his lips but too late because he was already falling, the cliff face a grey blur as it zipped past him.

 _Go!_

The voice was like a child's, carefree and light, full of a happiness so pure that Diaval's alarm changed to exhilaration, and his wings beat steadily, pulling him out of his dive just before he hit the water, sending up a wave of mist on either side of him.

 _Fly! Fastfastfast! Go! Go!_

He whooped, and was all too happy to oblige, his wings beating harder, the wind whipping in his face and sending his hair flying back behind him like a flag.

He felt another thrill of confusion, and a sudden shove sent him tumbling away as a raven. He flapped his wings as hard as he could to avoid falling out of the sky, but then he ducked as another, larger winged form charged over him. His first, instinctive thought was that it was a hawk or some other bird-of-prey, and he had a fleeting memory of all the times he'd been bullied by the larger birds.

But it wasn't a bird at all. It was a girl, nut-brown hair streaming in the wind, parting easily around a pair of dark, twisted horns.

And then he understood.

There was a pulling sensation, and he was soaring as Maleficent once again, twisting and turning through cliffs and rocks, tumbling to avoid muddy missiles. And all the while, the voice whispered in his ear.

 _Fly! Fly! Fly!_

He was cruising over one of the pools now, having pulled up from flying alongside the Water Dragons. A high trilling noise reached his ears, and he saw some of the smaller fairies flitting around on a rock, apparently in the midst of an argument.

 _Down?_ The voice asked with a tremor of disappointment.

 _Down._ He confirmed, and he dropped gently and smoothly, feet hitting the stone with barely a slap, wings flapping hard to brake and balance before settling back against his shoulders.

The fairies didn't even look up at the intrusion, but continued firing back hotly at each other, their dresses a blur of green, blue and pink color as they zoomed around in agitation.

 _'_ _These three again.'_

It was Maleficent's thought, Diaval realized, as he watched the fairies argue about the rules of telling, and he was glad he wasn't the only one who seemed to find them irritating.

"Tell me what?" he snapped, and the fairies began talking over each other before Knotgrass finally started.

"Maleficent, the border guards ha-"

"The border guards have captured a Human thief at the Pool of Jewels!" Flittle finished excitedly, then paused, shrinking back from the angry gazes of her sisters with a whispered: "Sorry."

 _'_ _A thief? Here?'_

His wings beat frantically, launching him into the sky and racing towards the Pool as fast as they could go. Diaval though that it was significant, somehow, that Flittle had felt the need to mention that the thief was human. He wondered if thievery was really so common here; the way she emphasized that the thief was human made him think there had been other, non-human thieves. Or maybe she just thought the fact that it was human was enough to warrant attention.

He saw Ronin and Balthazar by the edge of the Pool, spears raised and poking around a thick tangle of vines, grunting and grumbling ominously to each other as he landed. His wings fluttered a bit, lifting him just enough so his feet rose to his toes.

 _Run! Up! Up, up! Danger!_

 _'_ _Stop that,'_ Maleficent thought sharply, and his wings settled against his back, though he sensed some reluctance, as well as a readiness to fly at the first sign of trouble.

"I'm not afraid," she said aloud. "Besides, I've never seen a human up close before…"

Balthazar grumbled some more, but his words were muffled somehow, sounding far away, and Diaval realized with a tremor that the scene had become dark, a thick mist coming up and coiling around their ankles. He stumbled when he was shoved outside Maleficent again, and he stood on two feet this time, squinting through the fog to try in vain to see. He tried taking a few steps, but his feet seemed to slide, mud or some other thick sludge slipping between his toes and dragging him down.

A muffled splashing reached his ears, and the mist became liquid, and lights were dancing in front of his eyes. First blue, then green, then purple and gold, and as he gazed around he recognized the Pool of Jewels; the back half near the caves with the giant willow tree. There was the tree now, and resting peacefully beneath he could just make out two shadowy forms, one unmistakably being Maleficent.

Diaval wasn't sure what was happening, or who the other person was, but there was a general feeling of happiness and peace that made him smile. He watched Maleficent and the other person as they watched the fairies dancing on the lake, until Maleficent settled against the figure in sleep. He drifted closer, his fingers trailing idly through the waters, trying to figure out who….

 _Up!_

He started at the voice, sounding urgent and terrified, and he waded closer as it cried louder, becoming a desperate scream.

 _Up! Get up! Away! Fly!_

The voice faded on the last word, a mere whimper before dying out completely, and Diaval shivered, not liking the feeling in the air. Even the fairies on the lake had gone silent and still, their lights no longer reflecting in the pool. Then suddenly, the other figure stood, and a sharp grating noise reached his ears.

The sound only lasted a second, but in that second, the figure turned, and its face just caught the edge of moonlight. Diaval's blood went cold, then hot, then cold again as he stared into Stefan's eyes, glinting darkly in the night as he gripped the knife tightly in his fist, ready to plunge it into Maleficent's back.

"No." The word was barely more than puff of air on Diaval's lips.

The knife was lowered briefly before being brought back up. Stefan's hands were shaking, the blade trembling oh so slightly before it was suddenly thrown away in favor of something else.

A chain.

An _iron_ chain.

"No!" Diaval threw himself forward then, thrashing against the writhing water that held him back, keeping him in place.

"No, no, no! Please, no!" Diaval struggled uselessly as a rough wave of water shoved him even further back, and he lashed out, striking the water a vicious blow in retaliation for its cruelty. He brought his hands up to his face, pressing his palms over his eyes and whimpering, helpless to stop what couldn't be undone. He was even helpless to defend himself with blindness, for even with his eyes shut he could still see Stefan raising the chain.

He shouted, but his own scream was drowned by another's, and a sudden, ripping, searing pain sent him reeling. He clutched his head as everything suddenly pitched on its axis, and the world around him crumbled away.

He wasn't falling, however. He was flying, back in his own body this time, though everything around him remained shrouded in fog. He didn't know where he was going, but the wind ruffled through his feathers in the same manner the wind had ripped through Maleficent's tree.

There had been nothing good in that wind. Diaval had felt it, and shivered just remembering. But Maleficent hadn't seemed to notice, or if she did, she abandoned the thought in favor of healing the tree. He was sure that meant something, too, but he was still too shocked to fully process. His wings moved automatically, taking him wherever the destination was without his full participation, and he tried to clear the images from his head, but they wouldn't let him go.

A sudden flickering of light caught his eye, and he squinted at the sun, just beginning to rise through the clouds. He blinked suddenly, recognizing where he was. It was the Cliffs of the Moors, or at least, one of the many cliff faces that inhabited the place. This particular cliff was the one that overlooked the Valley, and Diaval could see the various waterfalls and forests dotting the open space below.

He landed on a tree just bordering the forests that gave way to the Cliff itself, and wondered why he was here. His answer came in the form of voices, hushed and full of excitement as they drew closer.

"Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise."

"Just tell me!"

Diaval started, recognizing Maleficent's voice instantly. It sounded younger, much younger than she currently was. He looked around but couldn't see her, even as the voices drew closer.

"Tell me!"

"You'll see," the other voice, a young male, responded, a laugh in his words. "It's a surprise."

"I don't _like_ surprises, Stefan. You _know_ that!"

Diaval squawked, a distorted noise of alarm and dread as he was once more faced with being a witness. The trees near him shifted, rustling as branches were gently tugged or lifted out of the way to allow passage.

"You'll like this one, I promise."

Maleficent laughed, a soft sound; equal parts scoffing and amused. "I'd better."

"You will." Stefan finally appeared, stepping out into the open space of the cliff face and stretching to hold up the branch he'd just walked under. He was older now, no longer a child, but not quite a man yet. He was thin and lithe, just beginning to lose that boyish clumsiness that came with his age. His hair wasn't as dark anymore, and no longer curly, instead starting to fall straight, ending just below his ears in length. He was smiling, Diaval saw, even as he strained to keep the branch above him, his eyes were light and…dare he say it…innocent.

Maleficent stepped from the trees, a laugh playing about her lips as she passed beneath the branch, which was well above her head. She moved with an elegant grace, her wings tucked neatly in the fold of her back. She, too, had aged considerably since the last moment Diaval had seen her, entering that mid-way point to womanhood. She was taller, but not quite as tall as Stefan yet, even with her horns. Diaval could tell by the mischievous look in Stefan's eyes as she approached that he was contemplating releasing the branch and letting it swing, but Maleficent had already cleared the gap by the time he'd prepared to do it.

"I'm not _that_ tall, silly."

She grinned at Stefan, brushing his side with a wing as she passed him, making him laugh and drop the branch anyway. He started to brush away the leaves clinging to his hands, but a soft gust of wind blew them from his palms and into Maleficent's own. She smiled at his confused look, and began folding the leaves with delicate fingers, rolling, twisting, folding again. Stefan drew in for a closer look, but a wing came up and blocked his view.

Diaval could see, however, and he marveled as the leaves suddenly took the form of a rose, nestled neatly in the palm of her hand. She laughed to herself, and her wing fell back as she turned and walked smoothly back to Stefan, tucking the flower into the corner of his hair by his ear. He frowned, but it melted at her laugh, and he reached up, gently tugging the flower from his hair to examine it before placing it back, much to her amusement.

"I thought I was supposed to be the one giving gifts," he said, chagrined.

Maleficent's eyes light up with excitement, but it was quickly hidden and replaced with a coy smile as she turned and walked further into the clearing.

"Oh? So this isn't just a random walk along the Cliffs; you really have remembered."

"Of course I remembered!" his affronted tone was undermined by his laugh as he came up behind her, wrapping his arms gently around her waist. "How could I forget your birthday?"

 _Birthday?_ Diaval thought, but it was a distant one, his head reeling from everything he was seeing.

It was strange to see Maleficent, and even Stefan too, he supposed, so young and carefree. Her laughter came easier, her smiles more frequent, and showed in her eyes as a warm light of gold. Stefan's smiles had yet to turn cruel, his eyes bright with happiness instead of malice. And maybe, there was something more there, if one looked hard enough. But Diaval didn't want to look, didn't want to believe what he was seeing. And yet, it was impossible to deny.

"Well?" Maleficent's voice drew him back, and he focused once again as she raised her head to peer over her shoulder at Stefan.

"Well?" he said back, trying to contain his grin.

"The surprise," she cried, turning on him, and Stefan laughed even as her wings slapped his face.

"I thought you didn't like surprises," he teased, and Maleficent huffed, her eyes flashing once in a warning that would have been stern if it weren't for the smile pulling at her lips.

Stefan took the hint anyway, and reached into his pocket, pulling a small leather bag from it, tied off with a piece of gold ribbon.

"Happy birthday, Maleficent." He stood almost shyly as Maleficent's eyes lit once more, and she eagerly took the bag from him, carefully undoing the ribbon and opening the bag.

"Stefan did you…?" Her question trailed off in a gasp as she drew the items carefully out from the wrapping.

Diaval fluttered just a little closer to look, and saw two small rings; one a band of twisting metal and smooth wood, with a large piece of a purple jewel nestled into the center; the other, a thicker black band of metal and a patterned leather, half of a small bird's skull carefully secured in the center of the ring. The skull alarmed Diaval, but Maleficent laughed, a breathy noise of joy and awe.

"Did you make these?"

Stefan nodded, still a bit shy, but emboldened by her smile. "I found the bird a few weeks ago, and I thought about burying it, but then I thought I could make something out of it, and with your birthday coming up..." He trailed off a little as she tried it on, the ring a perfect fit, the beak of the skull resting neatly along the length of her finger.

"Is this metal?" she asked, eyeing the black band.

He nodded again, beginning to share in her excitement once more. "The blacksmith's apprentice help with the band for both rings. That one's steel," he motioned at the ring she was currently wearing before pointing at the one with the jewel. "And that one's a bit of steel and brass. They won't rust."

 _Clever,_ Diaval thought, in spite of himself. _Impressive, too, the skill. Thoughtful and…clever._

"Leather?" Maleficent asked, carefully slipping the bird off her finger and examining it closer.

"Snakeskin, actually," he confessed with a nervous laugh. "I thought I'd stepped on the actual snake when I found it, but turns out it was just the skin. Good thing, too."

She hummed in agreement before placing the ring gently back into the bag before trying on the other one. The jewel glinted in the light of the rising sun, sending rainbows dancing across their faces.

"It's a piece of the jewel from when we first met," Stefan explained, stepping closer. His voice had gone quiet all of a sudden, and Diaval was having trouble identifying that look in his eyes.

"I remember," Maleficent said softly, staring at the ring with deeper awe. "I thought I put it back." She glanced up at him with a hint of suspicion.

"You did" he assured quickly. "I…found it again."

"How?"

"A lot of swimming and holding my breath," he grinned sheepishly. "Plus the sprites helped, once I told them it was for you. The bit of wood holding it is from the willow tree. Um, I thought, this way…no matter what happened…you'd always have something to remember our time together. Remember me by."

"Stefan," Maleficent gasped, blinking hard as she stared at the ring. He shuffled anxiously when she faltered, his brows furrowing in worry.

"Do you…like them?"

She laughed a watery sort of laugh before throwing herself forward, her wings steadying her for a moment before she collided with Stefan, wrapping her arms tightly around his shoulders.

"I love them," she murmured sincerely in his ear. _I love you._ It was an unspoken whisper carried by the light from the sun, and Diaval started, ruffling his feathers in the tree above them.

Stefan's face melted with relief, and he smiled broadly, returning her hug, his eyes alight with pleasure. "I have one more surprise," he said quietly as they pulled away, and Diaval noticed that the distance between them had lessened significantly, their hands entwining with each other's.

"Another?" Maleficent laughed again, her voice choked with emotion. "I really don't think I need anything else."

Stefan smiled, but there was a nervous look on his face as he spoke. "Close your eyes."

Diaval cawed in alarm above their heads, but neither heard him. Maleficent's smile tightened slightly, her eyes sparking warily. "Why?"

"You trust me, don't you?" Stefan said, and though his tone was light, Diaval thought he heard genuine concern in his voice.

"Of course," Maleficent replied, and Stefan's smile returned when she closed her eyes.

Diaval cawed again, trying to give a warning. Warning of what, he didn't know, but his cries died in the air as Stefan leaned forward, his own eyes closing as he pressed his lips to Maleficent's in a gentle, chaste kiss. The kiss didn't last long, but it was enough to leave Diaval feeling numb, questioning everything he believed. The sun had risen completely when they pulled away, flushed and breathless and bathed in golden light.

A light that was steadily getting brighter, he realized with a start. The whole scene was being washed away in it, the cliffs and the joyful figures atop it disappearing in a flood of light. Diaval cried in alarm, and tried to fly up to escape it as it approached him, but his wings were gone, his human feet stuck firmly to the ground and refusing to let him go anywhere. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly as the warmth of the light washed over him, tossing him back like a wave and slamming him down.

The first thing he was aware of when his eyes opened, was that he was still human, and that he was back in the nest, grey light just beginning to filter in through the branches. The next, was that the place was still full of magic, though it was rapidly dissolving around him in shimmering bursts of green and gold. The last, and most pressing, was the pair of bright green eyes, boring into his own and promising to be the last thing he ever saw.

* * *

 **Not sure if this counts as a cliffhanger, but I apologize for it anyway. I wanted to include one more moment between Stefan and Maleficent, but decided to do it in a later chapter so as not to be too info-dumping, so I'm sorry if the transition back to reality felt a little jarring.**

 **In case anyone is interested, links to the rings that inspired the ones Stefan gave to Maleficent will be posted on my profile page. Just copy and paste without the spaces. :)**

 **Hope you all enjoy and don't forget to review!**

 **\- Raven**


	11. Revelations

**Hey guys! Sorry this chapter has been so long in coming. This was really hard to write, for some reason. I could not get reactions right, so I rewrote this at least 2 or 3 times before I finally got somewhere, but still, I am really sorry to leave you so long on such a cliffhanger. I promise, I am working on the next chapter even as I post this one, so it will not be as long a wait.**

 **No warnings for this chapter, though some major developments start happening, if you couldn't tell by the title. ;)**

 **Also, just wanted to say, thank you so much for the continued interest in this story! It really means a lot to me to see that I've got a new follower or a favorite, and I love hearing what you guys think and reading your reactions in the reviews. They really make my day and I really appreciate them all.**

 **Ok, enough sentiment. On to the chapter! Hope you all enjoy and don't forget to review!**

 **\- Raven**

* * *

 _He knows._

It was Maleficent's first thought as her eyes flew open, and it was solidified the moment she saw the look on Diaval's face. It repeated over and over again in her head, a taunting mantra that threatened to tear down her carefully sculpted defenses.

His hand was still on her shoulder. She gave him a pointed glare, which she knew he could read all too well, and was rewarded when he finally let go, stammering apologies and other things as he quickly backed away. She fought to ignore him, and focused instead on her magic, which hung shimmering in the air around them, gold and green overlapping with each other. She frowned, and reached for her staff, channeling the magic back into its core and watching as the orb became filled with the same green and gold glow.

She drew a deep breath and closed her eyes again, trying to calm her thoughts, and figure out what had happened. Her dreams were not an unusual occurrence, but Diaval's presence in them certainly was. It was strange, the dream. It had been like viewing it from over her own shoulder, and it had taken her a moment to sense Diaval at all. His feelings had been strong, overpowering in intensity, and had been enough of a jolt for her to realize that she wasn't alone in her dreams as she had thought.

 _He knows!_

There was no hiding from him anymore. A part of her bristled slightly, resenting that accusation. She didn't hide. But another part knew better; the part that had been her shield, keeping it all at bay while she stood on the other side, dreading the moment it broke. The moment that had decided to come now instead of never.

"I-I'm sorry."

The choked apology from Diaval drew her attention, and she instantly reached out, gathering up her shattered shield and doing her best to reconstruct her defenses before turning to him, keeping her face blank and unrevealing.

"I don't know what happened," he continued, stammering in his distress. "I was only trying to…I didn't mean for it to happen, I swear!"

He blinked hard a few times, and she realized with a start that he looked close to tears, and she frowned further, uncomfortable with the thought. He caught her expression and winced before opening his mouth once more.

"Sorry," he whimpered again. "I-."

"Diaval," she said, stopping him short. She couldn't stand his groveling, not right now. She grimaced at the look on his face, as though expecting her to lash out or turn him into something particularly nasty. It took all her strength to not do just that, and instead choke out the words: "It's. alright."

He scrambled up to his knees instantly at her words, something hard coming up behind his eyes before falling away, but the intensity of his gaze is enough to make her stiffen, if only for a moment.

"No," he said quickly, his voice urgent and almost as hard as his eyes had been. "No, it's not alright! I saw! He…what he did to you…."

She drew a sharp breath and he faltered, seeming to realize too late what he'd said. She could see him go pale in the faint, gray light of early morning, and she felt a sharp twinge of annoyance when he started to apologize again. She straightened against the wall of the tree, gripping her staff tightly and only faintly registering the orb fluctuating between black and green.

"What did you see?"

Each word is clipped in its own separate inflection of anger, and she held on to the feeling desperately, willing it to take over in place of the fear and pain that fought for dominance within.

"Diaval," she snapped, when he remained silent. He seemed to go even paler, and a part of her relishes it, while she ignores the part that questions why.

"I saw the Pool," Diaval spoke, breaking through her thoughts. His voice was so soft if it weren't for the confines of the nest, she would barely have heard him. She swallowed hard and fought to keep her emotions in check.

"I saw how you met." His eyes lift up to hers, and she thought she saw something resembling nostalgia in them, and she knew the same look would be in her own eyes if she'd let it. He took a deep breath before continuing, his voice dropping even further.

"I saw what he did," his dark eyes peered closely at her face, trying to gauge her reaction. "When he…." A barely perceptible shake of her head is all he needs to stop, but his lips twist in a sad imitation of an understanding smile as he finishes with: "I know."

Her hands are so tight around her staff that she's surprised it hasn't broken, and the black swirling in the orb is so fierce she can almost imagine it sucking all the light inside, turning everything else black as well. She knows there's something else, something more that he doesn't want to say; can see it in the way he stares, hear it with every tense breath, and she wonders (though deep down she knows) what it could be.

"I saw the Cliffs."

He doesn't elaborate any further, but she doesn't need him to. The Cliffs. Her birthday; Stefan's gifts. Their kiss: the first, but most certainly not the last. She should feel angry, but who that anger should be directed at is unclear at the moment. She aches for her lost wings all the more now, longing for them to take her from this, to go anywhere else but here. But she is trapped, and there is no escaping the words and questions she can see forming on Diaval's lips.

She sighed, and Diaval looked up sharply, his mouth opening before closing again, and she closed her own eyes, steeling herself before finally speaking.

"One question."

Silence met her words, and she could almost imagine the confused look he must be giving her.

"What?"

She almost smiled, but shoved down her brief amusement and repeated herself, knowing she'll regret it. "You may ask. One. Question. I'll try to answer…." Honestly, was what she was going to end it with, but an answer at all would be an achievement.

Diaval fell silent again, and she waited, hoping that he would be wise and remain that way. Even as she hoped, she thought on all the questions he could possible ask and tried to prepare herself for each one. She's certain she knows what he'll ask, and she waited with bated breath for him to finally speak. When he does, his voice was so quiet and halting that she almost didn't hear it.

"What…why do you…why do you still wear the rings?"

It was her turn to fall silent, as his question sunk in. Even when it did it still took her a moment to process. _Why do you still wear the rings?_

She looked at him, and it must have shown on her face because he clarified in shaking tones. "The rings you wear…when I saw…the Cliffs. He made them for you as a gift. But he betrayed you…so, why do you still wear them?"

She had a strange urge to laugh, because of all the dangerous questions he could ask…and yet she still hesitated, and she wasn't sure why. She glanced at her hands, at the bird staring back at her with empty eyes, and the purple gem wrapped in its cocoon of wood and metal. It wasn't a conscious choice, she just wore whatever happened to suit her needs, whether it was a thicker black cloak, or something lined with fur, or even the different turbans used to wrap her hair and horns in. She didn't think about it, she just did.

But Diaval seemed to think otherwise, if his question was any indicator. _"Why do you wear the rings?"_

"Particularly why do you ask, Diaval?"

The man looked up at her, his eyes widening briefly in surprise before he started stammering again, and she had to resist the urge to scowl at him.

"I was just wondering…curious…I noticed in the memory that…well he took a lot of time to make them for you, and they mean something special."

"Do they?" She was thinking aloud, but her question seemed to startle him.

"Um, yes," he cleared his throat, his expression turning nervous as he continued. "I mean, what he said when he gave them to you…they mean something."

 _No matter what happens, you'll have something to remember me by._

Maleficent frowned, and Diaval shifted anxiously under her gaze. "There's more you're not telling me."

"No, I just thought…" he began, but she fixed him with a look and he faltered. "It's just…in the human world I noticed there's a sort of…tradition…with rings."

He stopped, and she clicked her tongue impatiently. "Well?"

He winced at her tone, but continued slowly. "Usually, when a man is courting a woman, there's the intent to…mate?" He hesitated over the term, and Maleficent quickly corrected him.

"Marriage, Diaval. It's marriage for humans."

He nodded his thanks and understanding, then pressed on. "Well, when a man intends to…marry a woman, there's an exchange of rings to show that they belong to each other…that they love each other and want to be together."

She fell into a deeper silence as the revelation came to her. Did Stefan love her? There was a time when she loved him, but she had never been sure if he felt the same. She thought he might have, but…she stared at her rings a bit more closely. Is that why he'd made them? He'd said it was to remember him by, but the kiss….

 _It's called love, Maleficent. True love's kiss._

He'd made her more rings, in the years after. Always on her birthday, he would present her with other rings he'd crafted, and he no longer needed the blacksmith's apprentice's help. He would make them from things he'd found in the Moors, the place that had become a part of him just as much as it was a part of her. She'd always treasured them, and what they represented, but love? Marriage? Had that been his intention? And if it had, what was she supposed to feel?

"Mistress?" Diaval's voice was hesitant, wary and cautious, but she ignored him, still pondering this development.

She wears his rings for love. The love she had for the boy he was, for the man he could have been. For who they could have been together, if he had let it. At the time, the rings had been to remember him by, but she's not likely to forget him, or what he did. More than her wings, more than his betrayal; he made her fall in love with him, and she wasn't sure that she could ever forgive him for that.

* * *

Diaval never did get his answer. He flew now as a raven, Maleficent having changed him after his question. He had thought it was relatively harmless, all things considered. He could have asked about her wings; and he wanted to, that and so much more. But she had said only one, and he wouldn't betray that small bit of trusts with something like that. So he'd asked about the rings that Stefan had given her. He knew what they meant, but he wasn't sure, and he wanted to know why, even after his betrayal, Maleficent continued to wear them.

Did she still care for Stefan, somehow? Or was it something else entirely? She hadn't seemed to realize the same things he had about the rings or how significant they were, to humans at least, but they were important, he knew that now. He sighed to himself, and glided over the dark surface of the lake, heading for the edge of the Moors. Everything was dark now, even though he was fairly certain the sun was up in the world beyond. He had a feeling he was the cause of this particular weather change, and it did nothing to boost his mood as he gave a half-hearted call of greeting to Ronin and Balthazar, landing on the older twin's shoulder and ruffling his feathers.

 _"_ _What's wrong now, Diaval?"_ Ronin asked, peering at him sideways before turning back to scan the thorn wall.

"I'm not sure," he answered honestly. "Maleficent's magic was acting up again last night, and when I tried to wake her, I somehow ended up in her dream."

 _"_ _What's this?"_ Balthazar grunted beneath him, while Ronin scowled in confusion from his left.

"I don't know how it happened, but I somehow got to experience her dreams, or her memories, or maybe both? I don't know!" Diaval flapped his wings in frustration. "But I saw how she and Stefan met, and…other moments."

 _"_ _Other moments?"_ Balthazar repeated pointedly, while Ronin's scowl increased, a sharp edge to it as he glared at Diaval.

"Her wings," Diaval said quietly, and he felt Balthazar tense under his feet. "I saw when they were taken. And I saw the Cliffs on Maleficent's birthday, when Stefan…"

 _"_ _That was when he gave her those rings, wasn't it?"_ Ronin cut in quickly, glancing at his twin.

Balthazar grunted in agreement, all too glad to change the topic. _"That was the one before he left for the castle."_

 _"_ _No, that was something different,"_ Ronin insisted, but Diaval cawed sharply, bringing their focus back to him and the situation at hand.

"What about Maleficent?" he demanded, and both guardians gave him a look, startled by his tone. "Why did I see those things?"

 _"_ _What exactly happened?"_ Balthazar asked, and Diaval gave a frustrated croak but related the story anyway. How, when he arrived back at the nest he'd found Maleficent caught in another dream, but her magic had been reacting as well, and when he tried to wake her, he somehow ended up reliving the dreams with her.

Ronin and Balthazar were both frowning when he'd finished, and Diaval waited for one of them to speak.

 _"_ _I can't say I understand it, Diaval,"_ Ronin finally rumbled. _"Sharing dreams, memories even, isn't a common occurrence."_

Balthazar nodded his head in agreement, and Diaval felt disappointment course through him. _"The most I could suggest is that Maleficent's magic needed an anchor, and unable to access her staff, latched on to you instead."_

"But why me?" Diaval flapped his wings anxiously. "Why would it latch onto me? I don't have any magic, I'm not even that important."

Balthazar rumbled a laugh, and even Ronin looked amused. _"You might not have any magic of your own, Diaval, but even the blindest Moor creature could see how important you are."_

 _"_ _Even the blindest human,"_ Ronin chimed in, nodding his moss covered head in agreement.

Diaval shook his own head and decided to do another scouting trip to the Village and the castle, thanking the Guardians for their help before taking off, gliding carefully along the thorn wall before finding an opening and darting through. The Village was surprisingly crowded for the early hour, the sun only just beginning to touch the tops of the buildings. At least it was touching the buildings, Diaval thought, thinking of the still dark Moors behind him. He shoved aside those feelings and quickly dove down over a fruit stall to see what was going on.

"…Can't believe it's finally happened!" One of the women was saying, arranging flowers across the street. "It must be so exciting for the Queen."

"And a relief for the King, as well," someone else commented. "I hear he was just about going mad from worry."

Diaval muddled over their words, wondering what they might mean, and decided the only way to know for sure was to go and see for himself. Maybe if it was something exciting enough, it could bring Maleficent out of whatever brooding mood she might be in. The main gates to the castle were all barred when he approached, but he banked along the side and found the servant entrance he had used with Hanna. He found Hanna herself in the kitchen, preparing a tray of tea and other small food, and he perched on the table beside her, chirping softly to get her attention.

"I wondered if you'd come back," she said, smiling at him. He cawed and nipped her fingers lightly before flying up to perch on her shoulder.

"You're just in time to find out the good news," Hanna continued, placing everything on the tray before picking it up.

 _Good news?_ Diaval thought, wondering if it had anything to do with what he'd heard in the Village.

"We all thought it would never happen," Hanna continued cheerily, oblivious to his thoughts. "Even the healers thought it would be impossible considering her health." Diaval realized they were outside the Queen's bedchambers, and he peered carefully over Hanna's shoulder as they entered the room.

It was the same as he remembered, but with one noticeable difference: a small cot at the foot of the Queen's bed.

Diaval felt his breath catch in his throat as all the pieces suddenly came together in his mind. _No. Not now._

But Hanna was beside the Queen now, and Diaval could see for himself. The Queen was slightly pale, surrounded by thick sheets and several pillows, but her blue eyes were clear and full of a joyful wonder, and there was no mistaking the slight bulge of her stomach. Hanna set about rearranging the blankets and pillows and helping the Queen sit up to eat the food she'd brought, and Diaval took the opportunity to perch on the edge of the cot.

It was relatively small, smaller than he thought it would be. Blankets and pillows with gilded trim were layered inside, and a small toy of some kind had already been placed carefully inside, awaiting the arrival that would give it a name and a purpose. Diaval pecked at it cautiously, and was surprised when it gave a small chirp, and he guessed there must have been a bell of some kind hidden inside.

"Do I have your approval?" The Queen's soft voice made him start in surprise, and he turned atop the cot to see her smiling amusedly at him. He cawed at her in response, and gave the cot another cursory glance.

He did approve, surprisingly enough. But Maleficent…well, he thought he might wait to tell her this news as well. For everyone's sake.

He flew back to the Queen and perched briefly on her shoulder, then cawed a farewell to Hanna before making his way back down the corridors and through the kitchen. He dodged the angry yells and thrown cloths from the other maids and swooped through the window and out into open air, all the little revelations tumbling around in his head as he made his way back to the Moors.

The memories he had seen were the most pressing, in his mind, but he knew he'd have to deal with them slowly. He wouldn't make the same mistake as trying to find everything out all at once, and risk hurting Maleficent further. He would know, but in time. And with a child on the way, Stefan wouldn't be able to plan any further attack, and Diaval comforted himself with the knowledge that they would be safe, and the fairies wouldn't leave. But this child could pose problems of its own, he reasoned. Though what they might be, he wasn't sure, but it was better to be cautious.

He wondered what Balthazar and Ronin would have to say about the news, and he thought on Balthazar's belief that he was important somehow. Important how? He had wanted to ask. And to who? He didn't think he counted as one of the natural creatures of the Moors, and he knew some of them resented his foreign presence. Surely not to Maleficent. All he did was send messages and find out information. He wasn't anything to take note of, as a man or a bird. And yet, it was an interesting thought. An impossible one, to be sure, but interesting.


	12. Thorns pt 2

**Oh my gosh guys! I'm so sorry it's been forever since I've updated! I haven't abandoned this story, I promise. I'm too committed. But man was this hard! I worry about staying in character, and I just couldn't work through this block, and struggled a lot with getting the reactions right.**

 **No excuses, you have every right to hate me for the delay. But I'm back now, and I swear the next chapter won't be as long in coming.**

 **To my reviewers: Loz, I knew it was you the moment I saw your name, and I was so excited to see you had reviewed I did a happy dance in my head. ;) I'm so glad you thought my characterizations were realistic, I had such a hard time with that, you wouldn't believe! I've got big things planned for Aurora, don't you worry.**

 **EmpathyBlues, Thank you so much! I'm glad to hear you're enjoying and I hope you will continue to do so. :)**

 **This chapter contains a bit of angst, if you couldn't tell by the title. I hope you guys can forgive my absence and that you enjoy this chapter. I worked hard to keep everyone in character but do feel free to correct me if you notice something I've gotten wrong, or if there's any spelling/grammar mistakes or typos.**

 **I look forward to hearing what you think in the reviews!**

 **\- Raven**

* * *

The Moors was gradually growing brighter when Diaval finally returned. It wasn't the cheery brightness of the human kingdom, since the sun still refused to touch beyond the thorn wall, but the usual light grey it transitioned to in place of day light. He soared over the pools, wondering over the latest news, and what it might mean for the kingdom in general. Good things, he hoped, but he had a feeling…. 'Something big,' Balthazar had said when Stefan attacked. Something big was coming, but Diaval was pretty sure nothing could be bigger than this.

A child. There was going to be a new human child, and it was as exhilarating as it was terrifying. How the kingdom would react was the thing worrying Diaval. He was just about to turn towards the tree line to find Ronin and Balthazar when he heard a shout below him.

"Diaval!"

He flapped his wings hard, pulling up short before twisting into a flip, turning him back around. Looking down, he saw three small forms flickering below him, and he bit back a curse as he dove down to meet them. He landed on a bush, shuffling along until he found a longer branch to cling to, ruffling his feathers and trying not to look as irritated as he felt.

"Have you told Maleficent our terms?" The pink one, Knotgrass demanded, her small face pinched in a scowl.

 _No, but you're more than welcome to tell her yourself_ , Diaval thought coldly. _I'm sure she'll be very understanding._

"Terms sounds so harsh," Thistlewit cut in quickly, swatting at one of her butterflies. "It's really not _that_ complicated, Diaval." She smiled in a way that would have been reassuring, if the subject itself weren't so grim.

"Not complicated at all," Knotgrass agreed, nodding sternly. "All you have to do is tell her to change things."

 _"_ _I don't think it's that simple,"_ Diaval said, his voice as cold as he felt. _"But why don't you tell her yourself? It's you who want to leave, not me."_

"Because she listens to you," Knotgrass huffed impatiently, crossing her arms tightly over her chest.

Diaval laughed, the sound a harsh crow that made all three fairies flinch. _"Listens to me?"_ He repeated incredulously. _"What on earth makes you think that?"_

"Diaval," Flittle said reproachfully, frowning at him. "This isn't a game."

 _"_ _No, it's not,"_ he shot back before any of them could continue. _"This is a war, as much as I hate to admit it. And you don't just abandon your home and your leader just because you don't agree with them!"_

"She was never meant to be our leader," Knotgrass broke in testily. "She was meant to be our Protector, and look where that's gotten us."

Diaval faltered, taken aback and unsure how to respond. It was true, he thought, though he was loathe to agree with them. Maleficent was meant to be the Protector, but had twisted its purpose; played with the power it had granted her and lashed out at the ones she was supposed to defend, just like…. Diaval flinched, shaking himself. No. No, she was nothing like _him_.

He turned back to the fairies, his earlier vindictiveness fading in light of his helplessness. _"I'll tell her,"_ he promised wearily. _"But I think you'll want to be well past the border when I do. I doubt she'll be forgiving."_

The three fairies straightened, surprise flickering across their features before registering his warning. Flittle twisted the hem of her dress, nodding her understanding, while Thistlewit and Knotgrass exchanged a solemn look.

"I'm glad you see it that way," Knotgrass said stiffly, while Thistlewit nodded next to her.

"We appreciate you understanding, Diaval," she said, and he scoffed, shaking his head bitterly. "We really do," she insisted, trying for a smile, but it fell quickly, and she flew off in the direction of the thorn wall.

"Goodbye Diaval," Flittle said softly, her own smile genuine, but containing a note of sadness in it. "It'll work out, you'll see." She was gone in the next moment, following after her sister towards the thorn wall.

Knotgrass gave him a grim sort of half-smile, nodding once in farewell before turning to do the same. A sudden urge struck Diaval, and he found himself flapping his wings, following after her before she got too far.

 _"_ _Knotgrass,"_ he called, and she stopped, turning back to face him. _"Be careful."_

It was the best he could come up with, not really sure what else to say. But Knotgrass smiled anyway, a slightly more positive one than her previous grin.

"I suppose that's as close to a 'good luck' as we're going to get, isn't it?"

He chuckled wryly, ruffling his feathers sheepishly. _"I suppose so."_

"Well in that case," she drew herself up a bit. "Good luck, Diaval. I'm sure we'll see each other again some time."

And with that, she turned and darted after her sisters, leaving Diaval alone and wondering who would need the luck more, them, or him. He watched for a moment more, ensuring that they at least had a sizable head start before turning and making his way towards the tree line. He felt strange, a sort of aching emptiness welling up from somewhere inside him. He thought it might be that sensation of 'missing' someone, but that was absurd; he didn't 'miss' the fairies. They were annoying, and irritating, complaining too much…but they were still a part of the Moors, and their absence was worthy of being missed, regardless.

He sighed, coasting to a slower pace as he approached Balthazar, landing heavily on one of his higher branches.

"They've done it," he said mournfully, shuffling his feet. "The fairies have left; they're heading for the human kingdom."

 _"_ _I take it you haven't told Maleficent yet?"_ Balthazar pressed carefully, his own voice low with sadness.

"No, but I will," Diaval answered. "She'd notice, anyway, even if I didn't, and I'd rather me tell her than have her find out on her own."

Balthazar grunted in agreement. _"I just never thought they'd actually do it. No one has ever left the Moors, and with the situation as tense as it is…."_

"And it just got better," Diaval cut in, remembering his other news. "Or worse, depending on how you look at it."

 _"_ _What now?"_ Balthazar's voice was weary, and wary, lifting his eyes to peer crookedly up at him.

"The Queen is having a child."

Balthazar was silent, and Diaval was sure that if he had been a human, he would be pale. _"A child?"_ he repeated, and Diaval nodded slowly.

"I don't know when the child is due to arrive, but it can't be that far off."

 _"_ _I don't see how that's better, Diaval,"_ Balthazar said, his voice skeptical, and Diaval chuckled a bit, ruffling his feathers.

"I didn't mean it seriously, Balthazar," he assured. "Though it could be, better, I mean."

 _"_ _In what way?"_

"Well, Stefan will be have other priorities now. With a child to raise, and teach and…well, he won't be focused so much on the war."

 _"_ _Or it could further encourage him to kill us all, if only to ensure no future threats."_ Balthazar's blunt tone cut through Diaval's optimism, and he grimaced, shaking his head.

"Yes, well, I was trying for some good news to tell Maleficent, but have it your way. Double the bad news."

 _"_ _When are you going to tell her?"_ Balthazar asked, ignoring Diaval's remark.

"It might as well be now," Diaval said, sighing. "I can't put it off any longer, even if I want to."

 _"_ _Start with the good news,"_ Balthazar supplied helpfully, and Diaval groaned, lifting himself off the branch and flying back towards the nest.

It was empty, had been for some time, and he flew back over the Pool, searching the coves and behind the waterfall. He had a suspicion of where she was, but he didn't like to think of what it would mean for him once he arrived. He glanced up at the sky, still light grey, but transitioning to the darker tone of later afternoon. He wondered if she had left for the Cliffs after he had gone to the castle, and if she had, if she'd remembered to eat. She didn't, more often than not, and though he'd never say so, he worried at her occasional self-destructive behavior.

The Cliffs loomed ahead, and Diaval focused on what he was going to say, scanning the outcroppings and hills for any sign of Maleficent. But there was no sign, no indication that she had even been to the Cliffs. Diaval frowned, worry starting to set in against his better judgement. He knew there was no reason to worry, it wasn't as though any harm could come to her, but her disappearance upset him all the same.

He flew back down into the heart of the Moors, trying to think of where she might be. The situation was familiar, and he tried to remember where he'd found her the previous times she'd disappeared. It was almost always the Cliffs, being so far removed, but if not there, then… Diaval angled his wings, banking sharply and heading back towards the Pool of Jewels, bypassing the crystalline water in favor of the rocky banks on the far side.

The willow tree loomed solidly in front of him, its branches still full of leaves despite the rapidly growing cold heralding the approach of winter. And there, walking along the bank beneath it, was Maleficent. Relief flooded Diaval, but it didn't show as he called to her before making to land on her shoulder. She shooed him away, but only to change him into a man, barely pausing in her stride as she did so. Diaval subtly shifted to walk alongside her, glancing sideways at her every other step to try and gauge her emotions.

She didn't have her staff with her, and walking beside her he could see each even stride, her steps sure if not a little careful. It was a good day, then, Diaval thought. No pain, or at least, not enough that it wasn't bearable or able to be hidden. He felt a twinge of regret; he didn't want to ruin this with is news. But he couldn't put it off, it would only be worse if he left it unattended. He ducked under a stray branch and was just was just about to open his mouth when Maleficent spoke instead.

"Something's happened."

Just two words, but in them Diaval could hear the layers of emotion that she refused to let show on her face. Apprehension was the forefront of the emotions, but underneath that he heard the stronger pull of fear, as well as anger and a hint of a grim sort of resignation that gave Diaval the impression of a soldier preparing for another battle.

"Yes," he confirmed, nodding carefully and watching for any warning signs. The lack of her staff was a curse as much as a blessing, leaving him with no clear indication of how she was truly feeling. "There's been a development at the castle…"

"No," Maleficent said sharply, and he saw her lips twitch in a frown, her brow furrowing. "Something's happened here, in the Moors."

Her needless clarification was as sure a sign as any to her distress, and Diaval grimaced. He'd hoped to ease into this a bit more gently, but he had no other options. She already knew, somehow, that something was wrong, he wouldn't lie to her and deny it, as much as he would have liked to.

He nodded again. "Yes."

It was drawn out, carefully vague as he watched her frown deepen, irritation flicking across her features before the worry came back and was then hidden safely behind a blank expression.

"What, Diaval?" She demanded tersely. "Tell me."

There was an unspoken 'now,' in her demand, but it was the even quieter, unspoken 'please' that made Diaval hesitate, if only for a moment.

"The fairies have left the Moors."

He left it at that, cutting off any further words of explanations in favor of searching Maleficent's face for her response.

It was silent for a long moment, her expression artfully blank, no sign that she had even heard the words, though he knew she had. She had stiffened, the motion slight, but there, and he could feel the tenseness in her body, see it in her suddenly shortened strides.

"What?"

One word this time, but Diaval flinched all the same. It wasn't anger, not yet, but cold, and simultaneously open and vulnerable, and he didn't know how to deal with it. Maleficent stopped, and he paused in his stride to turn back towards her, fighting against the instinct to run and hide.

"The three fairies," he repeated, his voice too loud in the sudden silence. "Th…"

"Knotgrass, Thislewit and Flittle," Maleficent broke in, her own voice low and empty.

Diaval faltered, staring a moment in shock. She knew their names. As soon as he thought it he realized how foolish it was. Of course she knew them, why wouldn't she? But it wasn't just _knowing_ their names, he saw; it was knowing _them._ There was an intimateness in the way she said each name, a thousand memories and feelings in each syllable and inflection. He swallowed hard against the lump in his throat, cursing how hoarse he sounded as he answered.

"Yes. They've…."

"Left." She finished, and Diaval could see the anger he'd been waiting for rise up in her eyes. "When? Why?" She looked like she wanted to say more, but was holding back in favor of hearing an explanation from him.

He shifted anxiously, unable to read the expression on her face. "Just…just now," he stumbled over the words. "They've gone to find shelter in the human kingdom."

Her eyes narrowed at the word 'shelter,' as though wondering about the adequacy of the obvious shelter of the Moors, but when he mentioned the human kingdom, she froze, and Diaval wished he could shrink into something very small to avoid her gaze. Her 'why?' still hung in the air unanswered, and he grasped desperately at words, trying to explain without revealing the truth.

"Because…," he stammered, aware that the anger was beginning to fill the void. "Because of…" _You._ "They said…something about" _Light._ "…I…I'm not…I don't know!" _Lies._ "They never really, never really clarified." _Lies._

He winced at the gaze she levelled at him, shrinking as small as he could, vainly trying to escape the truth. _Please don't ask more. Please don't ask more._

"Where," she began, then stopped, her expression twisting into something almost pained before rearranging it into something unrevealing. "Where are they?"

"Gone," Diaval whispered, treading carefully. "They're gone, beyond the thorn wall by now. There's no…" Stopping them, he was going to finish, but he cut himself off, not wanting to make things worse.

She shook her head slowly-denial, Diaval would have said, but there was a deeper emotion here, something he didn't think he'd ever seen from her before. Sadness; a genuine, grieving sort of pain he was unprepared for. If she had her staff, he wouldn't have been able to say what color it might be at this moment. She turned away from him, placing a hand against a tree and leaning heavily against it, letting out a shaky breath that sounded dangerously close to a sob.

He wondered if he should say something more, something comforting, perhaps, but he had no idea where to start. He'd never had to deal with something like this, and to see such a rare crack in her usually solid shield was so unnerving he hadn't the slightest idea how to respond. He reached out a hand, as though to place it on her shoulder, but he drew it away immediately, startled at the idea. As if he hadn't learned the first time.

"I…It…," he paused, frowning before continuing carefully. "It wasn't your fault."

That was something good to say, wasn't it? He had heard there was a usual sort of 'blaming' thing humans tended to do when facing a loss or some other tragedy, and while the circumstances where different and Maleficent wasn't quite human, he still thought it wasn't bad, all things considered.

Maleficent didn't seem to think so.

She stiffened, straightening so harshly against the tree he feared for a moment she might be in pain before he recognized the warning signs. He cursed silently, stepping back as her hand curled against the tree. Black, he thought. Her staff would be black if she had it now, and he would be….

Her hand cut through the air like a knife, a sharp flick of her wrist lashing out in his direction like a blow.

A bird, he finished miserably, watching her retreating further and further inwards. She would become closed off stone, and he would be the bird perched atop, wondering if she would ever move again.


	13. Retreat

**Hey guys! Sorry if I've kept you waiting, I've been trying to plot out the story so I can stay one chapter ahead and not delay as much.**

 **It's funny, it took me longer to coke up with the title for this chapter than to actually figure out what this chapter would contain. I had to narrow down just one word to describe all the inner workings and feelings of all the characters at play here, but I finally got it and I think I got it pretty well, actually. But I'll let you be the judge. ;)**

 **To my reviewers! Loz, I'm so glad you enjoy my writing so much! My style has changed alot over the years and I've worked on it a bunch, but I'm happy to hear it's paid off! Coming up with just the right words is not as easy as it seems. In often just sitting in front of my computer staring at the screen and waiting for the words to come to me. ;)**

 **EmpathyBlues: I'm glad you like my characterizations! That's another thing I work hard on. I try and picture how the characters look as they talk and how they would say it, or of its even something they would say, and if it isn't, I don't write it and choose something else. And I'm also really happy to hear that you enjoy my OC so much! I was afraid of the reaction but thank you! :)**

 **Sachia, my Guest reviewer: It was your review that helped me and gave me that extra push to get this chapter done. I'm honored that my fic is so highly rated in your eyes, and it really means a lot to hear you say that! :D I have read Comfort Only and I love the relationship between Maleficent and Diaval in that fic as well.**

 **Ok, on with the chapter! Continues the 'Thorns' arc with the fairies, and included another cut scene from the movie, with my own renditions. Also includes a Downton Abbey reference for all you fellow fans. :)**

 **I hope you guys enjoy and I look forward to hearing what you think in the reviews!**

 **(Also, I don't own Maleficent, and please forgive any typos or grammar issues due to my dedicated lack of sleep. ;))**

 **\- Raven**

* * *

It was dark by the time Diaval deemed it safe enough to move. He uncurled slowly from his position in a tree opposite Maleficent, watching carefully for any sign from her as he stretched his wings. There was nothing, and though he hadn't expected there to be any, he still felt a brief twinge of disappointment.

Hours, days. Who knew how long she had really been sitting there? It had hit her harder than Diaval thought, and he still had no idea how to reveal the other part of his news. Another time, he thought, staring at her still form. Not now. Definitely not now.

He let out a soft caw, then paused, waiting to see how she would respond. She didn't, and he tried again, a little louder. She drew a breath, but that was all, nothing indicating she was even aware of anything outside her walls. He ruffled his feathers in concern, then flew up, gliding over to her and landing on her shoulder.

He was reminded of that night at the Cliffs not too long ago, but unlike that night, Maleficent didn't stir even at his presence on her shoulder. Worry pestered him in earnest now, but he didn't dare leave. She might disappear completely if he did. Waiting seemed his only option, and he tucked himself as close to her as possible, preparing himself for yet another long night.

* * *

Hollow. She felt hollow. And cold. She'd been sitting for a while but couldn't find it in herself to care. If anything she was grateful for the pain settling in her body. It was like a dull flame, flickering unsteadily but gradually growing hotter as it ate away at the kindling thrown upon it. She let it burn, willing it to consume the emotions roiling inside, the feelings she couldn't contain.

Gone. The fairies were gone and who knew how long it would be before others followed their example? More than gone, they had left, and it was because of her. She knew that's what Diaval had been avoiding saying, trying to spare her feelings, or what little she had left.

He'd tried to convince her otherwise, but she knew the truth, and wouldn't allow herself to be blinded to it.

It was her fault, her darkness that had pushed them away. They had betrayed her, just like Stefan had, but she had led them to it.

* * *

Diaval was startled awake by his perch moving beneath his feet. He croaked in surprise, then relaxed when he realized what it was. He blinked a few times, chirping softly in Maleficent's ear before settling back into the crook of her neck. She shifted slightly, lifting her chin to accommodate his movement and let him settle in closer. He glanced over, trying to gauge her emotions from what little he could see of her face, but she remained closed off and he sighed, ruffling his feathers.

It'll be alright, you'll see. Flittle's parting words rang through his mind. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of anger. She may have believed that, but from what he could see, things had only been made worse. And he had no doubt as to what things would be like later, once the news of the child had finally been made known.

* * *

A lone figure paced frantically in a cold and desolate room, overseen by none, and yet noticed all the same. Any regal bearing in the figure's form was overshadowed by his manic energy, emotions swirling so haphazardly it was nearly impossible to distinguish anger from excitement and panic from joy.

"What am I supposed to do?"

Slender fingers tugged at wiry locks, absent now of the crown stating his status. Beside him in a locked prism, shadowy wings shivered in anticipation, as though sharing his concern. Mocking it, mocking him.

"A child," he muttered, awe and wonder creeping into his voice. "My child, my first…" A quick turn of his heel brought him back in front of the case. "How am I going to…? A father? I…I never knew my…."

'Shame,' the voice whispered sharply. 'Pity. Pity.'

He snarled at the laughter, at the wings staring so innocuously back at him. "I should have killed you when I had the chance," he hissed. "I wouldn't be in this mess if it weren't for you."

'Should have,' the voice agreed solemnly. 'Should have.'

"But I didn't," he bit back, turning away fiercely. "And now my child will be born in the midst of a war. That it will his inheritance. My legacy. My war."

'Her,' the voice whispered, and he spun back around to face the chained figure. The case met him, the wings still and silent in their bonds.

"It doesn't matter either way," he snapped, glaring fiercely. "My child is still in danger because of you."

'Because of you!' the voices roared, anger and hatred echoing on all sides as the wings thrashed violently against the chains. 'Because of you, because of you, because you betrayed us! You betrayed me.'

The voices faltered, a lone whimper ringing in his ears.

'Was it worth it?'

He faltered, pondering the question, but before he could respond, the door clicked tellingly behind him, and the wings resumed their former position in the cage. Stefan sighed, turning to face whichever messenger his courts had decided to send. Instead of the usual pale and nervous youth, however, the dark and confident form of Cyrus appeared.

"Your Grace."

"Yes, Cyrus, what is it? Have they come to a decision yet?"

"They have," Cyrus' tone was one of pleasant surprise. "With your approval, they've elected Princess Abigale of House Merton, and Prince Philip of House Evander."

"Very well," he said, frowning as he thought over the names. "Is that all?"

"I'm afraid not, Your Grace," Cyrus said with a slight wince. "You are needed in the throne room."

"What? I thought I was through with the Court for today."

"A…matter has arisen that demands your immediate attention."

Stefan bit back a groan, and readjusted his robes before following Cyrus down the halls.

"What matter?" he demanded as they went. "Couldn't this have waited until tomorrow?"

"It would appear not," Cyrus replied easily. "The Queen is already in attendance."

"The Queen?" Stefan repeated, startled. "But the healers said she was in no condition…"

"She insisted," Cyrus answered, his face twisting into one of understanding sympathy.

"What could be so important…?" Stefan wondered, then trailed off as a sudden revelation struck him. "You said Merton?"

"My-Your Grace?" Cyrus faltered.

"Abigale of House Merton, you said," Stefan repeated impatiently.

"Yes, Your Grace, I did." The man recovered easily, allowing a smile to slip onto his face. "She's a lovely girl. A tad young, but fitting, if…"

"House Merton was allied with Henry, if I recall correctly."

"Ah, yes, they were, until you took the throne. Now they are yours, and…."

"Until they plot to betray me." Stefan's tone turned harsh, the voice echoing in the back of his mind.

 _You betrayed me._

His advisor didn't get the chance to reply, as they reached the throne room, and Stefan took a moment to gather himself before entering. The majority of the court had diminished, leaving only a few lesser nobles and attendants to witness whatever event that was about to take place. Stefan approached his throne, glancing worriedly over at his wife as he sat. She caught his look and smiled, placing the hand not resting on her abdomen over his.

"I'm fine, darling," she murmured.

Stefan would have believed her, if it weren't for her obvious lack of color. She shouldn't have come. Carrying the child was strain enough, but she never complained and he couldn't recall ever seeing her soft smile leave her face, no matter how she was feeling.

"Let any who wish seek further audience with the King, approach now."

The words rang in the hall for a moment while the court peered around in confusion, wondering- as the King was- who could possibly seek audience at this hour.

"Is that us?"

"Do they mean us approach?"

"Hush, just go!"

"Ooh, look at the ceiling! It's so high!"

"Look at the people!"

"Her dress is gorgeous!"

"Be quiet you two! This is important!"

The whole court was twisting and turning, trying to see who or what was speaking, but Stefan could see just fine from his position, and he couldn't help the flood of memories that threatened to overwhelm him, or keep the frown of confusion off his face. Three hovering forms appeared before him, and he heard his wife's quiet noise of awe and surprise at being faced with not one, but three fairies.

"Who are you?" He found himself asking. He knew them, of course, but his court wouldn't expect him to know, and he hoped they would understand and respond in kind. The middle one seemed to understand, and flew a little closer before dipping into an aerial curtsy of respect.

"I am Knotgrass," she announced clearly, her eyes sparking with hidden emotion. "And these are my sisters, Flittle," she motioned to the fairies on either side of her. "And Thistlewit, formerly of the Moor kingdom."

He could see Cyrus giving him a pointed look at the mention of their rival kingdom, and the rest of the court muttered amongst themselves, but all Stefan could focus on was the added word in her declaration.

 _Formerly?_ He thought. _Why, what's happened?_

"What is it you want?" he asked, though it came out more as a demand, and he saw Knotgrass hesitate a moment before responding.

"We seek political asylum in your kingdom," she said, her voice solemn if not a little grieved.

"Asylum?" his surprise showed too clearly, and he reigned in his emotions into a stern expression. "From what?"

"From M-" the fairy stopped again, then continued lowly. "A _darkness_ has descended on the Moors."

There was something in the way she said it that gave Stefan pause, and he broke eye contact, a deep pang of guilt and pain at the thought that this darkness could have very well been because of him.

"But we come with a wish for you as well," the green fairy, Flittle, said, breaking through his thoughts. "We wish that your child will bring joy and light your life, and to every other life she encounters."

She, it struck him again. It seemed Fate had already designed his child for him. But the odds of any of their 'wishes' or the wings' predictions being true we're almost nonexistent.

"This isn't just any wish though," Thistlewit broke in, continuing where her sister had left off. "You see, we're magic!" She smiled happily, making an exaggerated motion with her hands as she spoke.

The statement wasn't as encouraging as she thought it was, however, and Stefan frowned further at the idea. Magic like Maleficent's? If this darkness they claimed was her doing, how was he to know they wouldn't bring the same to his kingdom? And his child; he wasn't about to risk his child's safety for something like this.

He glanced over at his wife to see her giving him a fondly stern expression, clearly amused by the fairies' antics.

"We're also very good with children," Knotgrass supplied, and he sighed a little, unsure.

"Stefan," his wife murmured quietly. He glanced back over to see that amused expression still on her face. "You should let them stay. It wouldn't hurt."

"You can't be sure of that," he retorted, and she gave a skeptical huff at his stern tone.

"What harm could they possibly do?"

"Maleficent was harmless when I first met her," he couldn't help blurt out. "And now-"

"They're not her," his wife said pointedly, her own voice echoing his earlier sternness.

He glanced back over at the fairies, still watching him expectantly, then to Cyrus and the rest of his court. They were all waiting. Waiting for him to make up his mind. One final glance at his wife and her encouraging nod and he sighed, the nodded once briskly, siting up fully in his throne.

"Very well," his voice rang out clear and authoritative in the silent hall. "I shall grant you asylum."

The fairies erupted into fits of laughter and expressions of gratitude, spinning and bowing their thanks before darting towards the back of the hall and the exit that would lead them into the rest of the castle.

"Someone escort them...somewhere," Stefan called out desperately as he watched their escape, motioning to his guards. "Until we can settle on further arrangements and lodgings."

The guards nodded, rushing to do his bidding and trying vainly to catch the fairies attention, too caught up in their celebrating to bother with the mail clad soldiers waving them down. Stefan slumped back into his seat with a groan, rubbing his temple tiredly. His first official act since being crowned, he thought. His first act other than starting a war, even if it was still early in his reign.

"You did the right thing," his wife said, chuckling beside him as the guards successfully reigned in the trio and led them from the room.

Had he? He wasn't sure. He shifted in his seat, wondering if he should dismiss the court when a flash of movement caught in the corner of his eye. He turned, and froze, dread filling him as he took in the sight of a pitch black raven, intelligent dark eyes staring straight into his own. The bird flew off before he could react any further, a single, echoing cry chilling him to the bone and promising him that no, he hadn't done the right thing.

Not at all.


	14. Dark

**Hey guys! Sorry it's so late updating (again.) You have every right to be mad for the delay. This chapter did not come easy. Reactions were a pain and I still think there's one moment that's not quite in character but we'll see. I knew I couldn't make you wait while I worried about perfection, so I posted. :)**

 **To my reviews: Bookwyrm52, I'm glad you like my interpretations. Yeah, Stefan is actually really fun to write, I don't know why. I just felt like there's a lot going on with him, and we don't really get to see how he's affected by everything going on around him. (other than going mad, of course) So then I thought to just really dig into it and try and figure him out as well, so that's how he came about. Your comment about jealousy was interesting, as I never really thought about how Stefan would feel about Diaval, almost replacing him, in a way, so thank you for the inspiration! :)**

 **EmpathyBlues: It's all about the characters! ;) I wanted to try and cover as many perspectives as possible, and, as I mentioned to Bookwyrm, I wanted to dig into each character and show not just what was happening, but how it affects them and everything around them as well.**

 **Lozzyjayne: No need for bursting, the chapter is here! Haha, and so worries about the review, I was late for the chapter, so we're even. ;)**

 **The warnings for this chapter are: Angst. Angst and feels like crap.**

 **Things start to get a little darker here, in preparation for things to come. Maleficent is such a complex character, especially the way they portray her in this retelling, and so I struggled a bit with just how dark to go, but she is The Mistress of All Evil, so I knew I couldn't hold back, because _she_ certainly doesn't! **

**Anyway, here's the chapter. I apologize for its length (namely, the lack of) but I'm working on the next chapter as I type this, and I promise it won't be nearly as long a wait. For those anxious for Aurora, more foreshadowing! (But mostly angst) I hope you guys enjoy, and don't forget to review!**

 **\- Raven**

* * *

The moon had risen and sunk when Maleficent finally seemed to rouse. She blinked at Diaval, who cawed softly to her, wondering if she was even aware enough to realize how much time had passed, or if she knew he had left. She drew a breath that sounded more like a sigh to the raven, but she lifted her fingers to stroke his feathers, and he was pleased to see further signs of life from her.

Her expression remained closed off, but Diaval could see the pain in her eyes, and he knew it was more than just a physical pain that drove the emotion. She sighed again, but it transitioned to a pained noise halfway through. Diaval looked over at her sharply, his eyes glinting with the concern that couldn't show on his face. Maleficent caught the look and frowned, but it didn't carry the weight it normally would.

"Are you alright?" he asked, knowing better than to expect an answer. She drew a sharp breath, her mouth opening as though to speak, but then her lips pursed and she shook her head once, her eyes flickering and revealing her uncertainty.

Tell me what's wrong. He wanted to say. What can I do? How can I help?

Instead of saying any of those things, however, Diaval shuffled just a little closer, ruffling his feathers as he pressed himself under her chin. He felt her smile a little at that, but it fell too quickly off her face, and he chirped softly, trying to comfort her as best as he could.

"I'd known them all my life."

Her voice was barely above a whisper in the darkness, and Diaval could feel it vibrating through his feathers, tickling his skin beneath.

"The fairies…" she stopped abruptly, and Diaval could feel her features twist, her jaw clenching slightly.

He blinked a bit in surprise, realizing that she was actually trying to _tell_ him something, and the significance of the fact wasn't lost on him. He straightened on her shoulder, eager to hear what she would say, but knowing better than to press.

"The fairies were the only family I had," she continued lowly. "Balthazar and Ronin taught me, everything, but they…they raised me."

He ruffled his feathers, processing her words, and he realized there was still so much he didn't know. The fairies had raised her? They had actually been competent enough to….he inwardly shook his head. No, that wasn't fair, to them or Maleficent. But that did explain at least, why their leaving affected her so much. Though he couldn't help but wonder what had happened to Maleficent's parents, and why the fairies had needed to care for her in the first place. He wished he was human so he could see her face and communicate fully with her, but he had a feeling that this limitation had been purposeful on her part, and he wouldn't risk overstepping her boundary.

"They raised me," she repeated numbly, her voice echoing in a far-away sense, and Diaval wasn't sure if she was speaking to him anymore. "The closest thing I'd had to-and they left. They left me."

Diaval straightened on her shoulder, hearing the raw pain and grief and _anger_ in her voice. Whoever had said that Maleficent was heartless and didn't feel emotion had lied. It wasn't that she didn't feel, he thought. It wasn't that she had no emotions. It was that she felt so deeply, and so much, that it was overwhelming. Her emotions were so powerful that rather than face them head on, the safest option was to hide them, bury them down lest they consume her.

But he wasn't sure how to deal with this sudden outpouring. It might not have seemed like much, but for Maleficent, she might as well have been openly sobbing and confessing all her deepest fears and regrets. In some way, she was, and Diaval didn't know if he could have done anything to help her even in his human form. Just as he was contemplating the right words to say, she spoke again, and he froze.

"Where did you go, Diaval? When you left."

The way she said it turned the simple question into an accusation, and considering the circumstances, Diaval knew it wouldn't be an offense forgiven lightly. He cringed, shuffling nervously along her shoulder until her fingers twitched, and he knelt beside her in the dark, damp leaves rustling beneath him.

"I went to the castle," he admitted slowly, grimacing and trying to gauge the emotions reflected in her eyes.

Her own face seemed to twist, and he wasn't sure what the expression was, but didn't have time to interpret as it was quickly wiped away.

"And?"

She sounded almost as hesitant as he did, and he shifted anxiously, trying to decide if he should tell her everything.

"Diaval."

There was the sharpness he was used to. He straightened, organizing the events in his mind before beginning to answer.

"There's...a lot that's been going on," he confessed, his voice low. "I wasn't sure how to tell you earlier, and I didn't want to add to everything else, and so I didn't. Tell you," he added quickly, inwardly cringing and bracing for her anger.

"Tell me what?" She asked, and if he hadn't known better, he'd have said she sounded curious.

But he did know better, and he swallowed nervously, wondering if she'd make a ring or some other ornament out of his body once she'd killed him. That was rather dark, he chided, though if he was being honest, she was more than capable...

"Tell. Me. What."

Right. Green flame seemed to lick at the tips of her fingers, and he paled slightly as he answered.

"About...about the fairies. About Stefan and...everything!" he burst out. "It's my fault, not yours! I'm the reason they left; they told me, and I didn't listen, and I should have told you but I...it's me. It's my fault. They wouldn't have left if I had told you when I was supposed to."

He drew a quick breath, gasping slightly from his desperate confession. She remained silent, but he could see the emotions flickering in her eyes, so many and so fast, he wasn't sure which one would be the most dangerous to him.

"There's also a lot of talk about the child and kingdoms joining Stefan's and marriages and armies and things like that," he rambled nervously, his fingers tapping his legs in time with his frantic heartbeat.

"What?" She said sharply, her head turning quickly to face him. "What did you just say?"

Diaval paused, reviewing it in his mind and trying to see if he had tripped over his facts. Everything was right, he hadn't left anything out or...Then he realized what it was he'd said, and he cringed a little as he raised his eyes to hers, cursing himself for his mistake.

"A ch-child," he repeated in a whisper. "King Stefan and the Queen are expecting a child."

He saw the flicker in her eyes before she could hide it, and in that second, Diaval thought he saw something like sadness reflecting in them. No, that wasn't right. More like, one last thread of hope, and it had just broken. He couldn't make sense of it, but Maleficent raised her chin, her expression unassuming once more.

"Oh," she said, and if her voice seemed to waver ever so slightly on the one word, he didn't dare mention it.

She made a gesture that was almost like a shrug, noncommittal; dismissive. Even the way she turned her back, and Diaval wasn't sure if it was further proof of a lack of interest, or if it was to hide just how much deeper this affected her. He knew he shouldn't have said anything, but he just couldn't seem to stop.

"I- I don't know when," he found himself saying, staring morosely at her back. "Soon, I think, but there's already talk- plans. They say there's to be a grand celebration."

She seemed to rouse slightly at those words, her head lifting. "A grand celebration," she repeated, her voice a low, thoughtful drawl. "For a baby."

Diaval didn't like her tone. He liked it even less when she turned back, and he could see a vicious something like malice in her eyes, her lips pulling upwards in a ghost of a smile.

"How _wonderful_."

He shivered. He couldn't help himself. There was something...she was thinking something now and he knew that whatever it was, it couldn't be good. She stood, and he scrambled quickly to his feet after her, tripping in his haste to try and stop her thoughts. She ignored him, her eyes distant, as though the castle stood before her now instead of trees.

"Find out when," she told him over her shoulder.

It was a command, Diaval realized belatedly, still trying to process the rapid (and dangerous) shift in her emotions. When he realized what she'd said he froze, pale face turning even paler at the request.

Find out when.

There was something more to that sentence, he knew. Something unfinished and unspoken. Find out when, so I can...what? Do something, he thought, but do what? Find out when so I can...

He looked up at Maleficent, framed in the shadows and lost in this plan forming in her head. She was in pain, he knew, and this wasn't helping. Too much information, too much feeling, too much...hurt.

Find out when, so I can...hurt.

"No," he murmured, more to himself, than to her, but she heard anyway.

"What?"

"I meant," he tried to recover. "I just meant"

No, he told himself. He _had_ meant no. No, this isn't the way. This isn't you. No, I won't help you in this. No. No, no, no.

"I'll find out when."

* * *

 **So yeah, bit of a cliffhanger. Sorry. But the next chapter won't be long in coming, I promise. It will feature a bit of a time jump, and possibly another POV shift. Not sure yet, I'm working on it, but it will be lighter, I can tell you that. Thanks again for the continued interest, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, and I look forward to hearing what you think in the reviews! :)**

 **\- Raven**


	15. Dawn

**Hey guys! A bit of an early update for you. I got so excited for this chapter and what I've got planned, and was inspired by your reviews so I pushed and ended up finishing early. :)**

 **In response to my wonderful reviewers: Princess Luna Alicorn, don't worry, Maleficent will get her wings back, but unfortunately it won't happen until close to the end, like it is in the movie.**

 **Bookwyrm52: Yes, that's exactly what I was going for with that moment. I found a deleted scene, I won't go into details because I plan on using it later on, but it develops that relationship between Diaval and Maleficent even further. ;)**

 **EmpathyBlues: Yeah, I had a tough time writing that bit. In doing research I found the original script, as well as some other info that said that fairies had raised Maleficent as well, and I found it painfully ironic, first with Maleficent, then again with Aurora. But anyway, I'm glad you like the chapter and that it wasn't too short for you. And don't worry; for all her edges, Maleficent would never willingly hurt Diaval, a fact that I plan on exploiting later on.**

 **LotrHobbitFrozenJLUFan: Hey, it's great to hear from you again! I hadn't heard from you since the beginning. I'm glad to see your still following and enjoying the story. :)**

 **Siepie: You're totally fine, it's good to know what you think no matter what chapter it's on. :)** **I'm glad you thought my portrayal wasn't too much, and i** **t really means a lot to me to hear how much you enjoy this story and my writing, so thank you for that! And thank you for the note about the flashbacks, I'll make sure to clarify for the future. :)**

 **Anyway, enough talk, on to the chapter! No warnings apply except for maybe an overload of fluff? I thought it would help counterbalance all that angst from last chapter, plus, it's a big important moment that deserves every bit of fluff it comes with, so I can justify it with that. ;)**

 **I hope you all enjoy, and I can't wait to hear what you think in the reviews!**

 **\- Raven**

* * *

Something was wrong. Stefan knew this even without the sound of his wife's screams accompanying his thoughts. He grit his teeth anxiously and stormed across the wooden floor, looking more to the ceiling above him than to the glass and iron case beside him.

 _'_ _Patience,'_ the voice whispered softly, and Stefan would have believed the concern he heard if it weren't for another muffled cry, which echoed through the boards and made him whisper a curse.

"I should be there, not here," he hissed, tugging at his hair in frustration before remembering that he was a king now, and not some frightened peasant boy.

 _'_ _Patience.'_

"It's easy enough for you to say!" he bit out, barely managing to speak through the clenching of his jaw. "I'm not even allowed in; 'custom' or some such nonsense, but I….she _needs_ me there!"

Another scream, and another curse from Stefan. He whirled around, his robes flying viciously behind him.

 _'_ _Soon.'_ The wings rustled slightly in their chains. _'You'll see her soon.'_

"Stop patronizing me," he snapped, and the voice went quiet, the wings curling up solemnly in their prison.

You'll see her soon, he thought, pacing again to keep himself occupied. See who? His wife? Or…could it really be a girl? Cyrus would tell him, he was sure, when the child arrived. But how was he going to raise a girl? A princess, even, a future Queen. He'd have to settle on marriages, and treaties with kingdoms, and find the best teachers, and…and….

 _'_ _Be a father,'_ the voice finished his sentence for him, the wings rippling once nervously before settling again. _'You'd have to be a father.'_

He turned sharply, about to snap another curse, but the door behind him suddenly burst open, and both he and the wings flinched at the harsh noise.

"Your Grace!" It wasn't Cyrus, he noted with a pang of disappointment, but the emotion didn't show as he turned to face the guard before him.

"Yes, what it is it?" He sounded far too anxious for a king, but as anxious as a husband and a father; he didn't think that would be taken against him.

"A girl, Your Grace," the man gasped out. "You have a daughter." He offered up a weak smile that faded off his face too quickly, and he ignored the voice whispering knowingly in the back of his mind to glare at the man.

"But what?" he demanded, recognizing the unease as 'something more.'

 _'_ _Something bad,'_ the voice agreed, before fading away in the silence.

"It's the Queen, my L- Your Grace," the man stammered, but Stefan waved aside the terms, dread hardening like a ball in his stomach.

"She…she's…"

 _'_ _Dead,'_ the wings echoed his numb whisper, and the guard snapped his head up sharply.

"N-no, Your Grace," he was quick to reassure, and Stefan melted only slightly in relief. "No, she's not dead, only…weak. Very weak. The healers say the birth took a larger toll than they expected. They aren't sure…," the man hesitated, paling slightly before continuing. "They aren't sure how much longer she will live."

Stefan froze, the room suddenly too small, his robes too tight. He could hear a voice in the background, saying something, but whether it was his own imagination or the guard, he couldn't be sure. What he was sure of, was that he needed to be with his wife.

His feet moved without any further prodding from him, and he found himself climbing the winding stone steps, ignorant of the shouting behind him. All that mattered was the room waiting above, the people waiting inside for him. He paused only long enough to straighten his robes, before shoving open the door, grateful to the tapestries lining the walls to muffle the sound of its slam.

"Leila," the name was on his lips even before he entered the room, and he crossed quickly to her side, ignoring the frantic and agitated pleas from the healers and serving women to leave.

"Stefan?" her head turned to face him, surprise registering on her pale face before settling into a fond smile. "You know you shouldn't be here." Her voice would have been stern if it weren't for the obvious relief at seeing him.

"I had to be sure," he said, his own voice low and worried as he grasped her hand. "They said…."

"Talk," she murmured, cupping his face with free hand. "It's all talk, Stefan, I'm fine. We both are."

His brows lifted; how could he have forgotten? She laughed softly at his expression, shifting slightly and taking her hand from his.

"Look," she said, bringing something from her side to cradle close to her heart. "Stefan, look."

He leaned closer, hardly daring to breathe as she drew back a small portion of a swaddled bundle to reveal a sleeping infant. He blinked hard, suddenly unable to do anything but stare; at the smooth cheeks, barely visible blonde lashes curled against them. At the small pink mouth, opening into a wide yawn that shouldn't have been possible for one so small. At the breathtaking blue eyes that blinked open lazily to peer at him skeptically, so different from the warmth and softness of the woman that the child rested upon.

"Hello," he whispered, tears pricking his eyes as he stared at this beautiful life he had helped create.

"Aurora," his wife told him, laughing at his awe.

"Hello Aurora," he said, swallowing the salt of the tears that had somehow slipped down his face, so unbecoming of a king, yet perfect for a father. "You're as beautiful as your mother, has anyone told you that yet?"

His wife laughed again, and the baby mumbled sleepily as her eyes drifted shut again, her face turning towards the window, the curtains drifting apart to let in a few strays crack of the rising sun.

"Aurora," he murmured again, looking up at his wife. "What does it mean?"

She shook her head a little at him, but it wasn't in mockery of his ignorance. She smiled again, that fond, loving smile as her own eyes began to blink tiredly.

"The dawn," she whispered to him as she lay back in the pillows. "As sure as the dawn."

He let the women shoo him away after that, apologizing dazedly for his disregard of the rules, drifting back down into the cool dark chamber he'd been in before. It was official, then, he thought, pacing in a slow and thoughtful line. He was a father, now. A king who had something to live for, someone to pass his throne on to. He had….

 _'_ _Well?'_ The voice pressed eagerly, the wings flapping anxiously against the glass. _'Well, well, well?'_

"Aurora," he whispered into the darkness, the name slipping like a prayer from his lips. "Her name is Aurora."

 _'_ _Dawn, dawn, sure as the dawn,'_ the voices seemed to sing, a whispered chant in time with the clatter of chains. _'Pretty, pretty baby Aurora.'_

He brought his gaze up sharply, seeing through his haze of joy and recognizing the mocking lilt of the song.

"You will not harm her," he said, his voice a low growl. "I swear it, you will not come _near her."_

 _'_ _Try. Try, try,'_ the voices teased, a sinister hiss. _'We'd love to see you try.'_

* * *

It had been a month, Diaval thought, surveying the still and solemn castle before him. A month or even two, perhaps. Surely the child had been born by now? He had flown to assess things just before the baby was due, judging by the amount of activity and the sheer number of women he'd seen flowing in and out of one of the upper rooms. But there had been nothing afterwards, no announcements, no signs, no presentations of the heir.

He wasn't worried, if anything, he was almost relieved that it seemed the child was being hidden away. But Maleficent…she was another matter entirely. Diaval shivered involuntarily, dropping a few feet before regaining his altitude. She'd grown ever more anxious and irritable, snapping at the slightest things. He didn't know what would set her off these days, and just took to avoiding her altogether, only reporting to her each time he made a scouting trip. As much as he hated leaving her alone, he knew he'd hate it even more if he happened to trigger another one of her outbursts.

He flapped his way up one of the many turrets, peering in windows and trying to find the right room. If he could do that, maybe he'd have something more to report than just 'everything is quiet and there's still no sign of the child.' He slipped around the side and was about to head down to the kitchens to rile up the cooks when he heard a quiet noise. He banked sharply, the tips of his wings skimming the stone as he turned back to the window he's just passed.

He landed on the sill, peering into the room, dark aside from the bit of light streaming in through the window. There was a large bed along the center wall to the right of the window, large canopies strewn up and drawn to keep out the light. If he focused long enough he could just make out a form, curled up beneath silken sheets. It must have been the Queen, he mused, but this wasn't her usual bedchamber. He was about to fly in and see what was wrong when the noise sounded again, and he started, giving an involuntary crow of surprise.

Looking down, he saw a small crib, the same one he'd seen earlier in the Queen's bedchamber. It had been empty then, but it wasn't now. Diaval felt a pang, a gut wrenching twist of fear, but he shoved it aside and flew down to land on the edge of the crib. He cocked his head and stared, surprised to see two bright and clear blue eyes staring right back at him.

The baby was old, was the first thing he realized. Not grown up, or anything like that, but certainly not all wrinkly and newborn. A few months, maybe four if he had to guess. The second, was that it was a girl, her hair only just starting to show in little blonde tufts. Her face was too round (and still a little wrinkly) to properly tell, but Diaval supposed she looked a lot like the Queen. Her chin was like Stefan's though, sharp and angled, and her ears too, but they were small details, ones he wasn't sure really mattered in the long run. It was her personality, who she would grow up to be that would affect things.

The baby made another noise, a soft sort of coo, her tiny hands reaching up towards him. He shuffled away from her, surprised, and her eyes screwed up into a glare. It wasn't a powerful glare by any means, not coming from such an innocent as her, but somehow Diaval found himself shuffling back. She smiled again, a bright and happy smile that directly contrasted the threatening look she'd just given. Her hands opened and closed, her tiny fingers wiggling and reaching to try and stroke his feathers. He chirped softly in amusement, and was about to lean closer so she could reach him when he heard the latch on the door click, and he lifted himself up quickly, soaring out the window before he could be seen.

The baby's wail of disappointment was quickly silenced by a voice, whispering comforting words that faded into nonsense in the wind. He couldn't tell exactly what was said, but Diaval still recognized the low tones and slight accent of a man, and he turned back towards the window, angling himself as he passed so he could look in. The man who cradled the baby close to his chest, humming under his breath was completely different from the ruthless king, or even the shy peasant boy Diaval knew about, but there was no mistaking him for anyone but Stefan.

"It's alright, Aurora," Diaval thought he heard as he passed. "Hush now, I'm here."

Diaval flew back down towards the kitchens, feeling disconcerted, and he wasn't sure why it surprised him so much to see the man caring for his child. It wasn't as though it was a foreign concept, fathers taking care of their children, he'd seen the proof of it in the village. But for a king, well, for _Stefan_ , it just seemed…strange. Even stranger to know that it wasn't just some show. No, Diaval had seen how tenderly the child was held in those hands, those hands that had caused so much pain. The voice was gentle, too. Loving, and quiet as he comforted his daughter, no harsh words or angry curses or demands for silence.

This Stefan was a stranger, but Diaval found he much preferred this man to the one he knew. This child, for better or worse, was here to stay, and Diaval only hoped her stay was a long one. She was a happy little sunspot, this Aurora, and he would hate to see that light extinguished. She made things better, somehow, and who knew what would happen if she ever went away?


	16. Beasts

**Hey guys! I hope I haven't kept you waiting too long. I'm super psyched and I wanted to share with you, this story has over five thousand views! Like what?! I'm so happy to see you guys reviewing and favoriting and following, I never thought this story would grow past more than just an idea, so thanks so much for your responses, you guys make this whole thing that much better!**

 **Anyway, in response to my reviews: LotrHobbitFrozenJLUFan, Hey it's totally alright you haven't reviewed, didn't want to seem like I was pressuring you or anything, lol! Don't worry, the christening is coming and I am equally excited as to what's going to happen. :)**

 **Siepie: Aw, thank you so much! I'm glad you're enjoying my story and I feel like I've accomplished my job as a writer if I've made you want to read more of my stuff with just the one story. :) You'll have to let me know what you think!**

 **Loz: I always look forward to your reviews, and when I saw your name pop up in my alert box I got so excited! :D In answer to your confusion, that is a continuity error on my part, that I have to go back and fix. When Diaval is in his raven form, he can communicate with the other Moor creatures and the Guardians just fine, but when he 'talks' to Maleficent, he sounds like a raven, so no, there is no actual conversation. Sorry about that! And yes, I did notice the stutter in the movie. I loved it too, though I had to rewind it because my first thought was that the film skipped, but then I realized that he had actually stuttered, and I loved it so much because I felt it added so much more to that moment and his character, so of course I had to include it here! ;) There's more of that relationship development here, so don't you worry! And I'm glad you enjoy my chapter titles, I feel like I spend more time worrying about finding the perfect title than the chapter itself sometimes!**

 **Ok, sorry to hold you up. On to the chapter! This chapter is a bit of a mix between angsty hurt/comfort and fluffy Maleval feels, so I hope you guys enjoy and I can't wait to read what you think in the reviews!**

 **(For those who are curious, the 'lullaby' Diaval sings at the end is from the song 'Close to home' from the musical Children of Eden.)**

*** **Trigger Warning! The final 'scene' of this chapter features a panic attack. I tried to keep it as accurate as possible while still being respectful of those who suffer from panic attacks and PTSD, but it is there, so if you trigger easily from reading about panic attacks then I recommend you skip the section I have stars in front of!*****

 **\- Raven**

* * *

Diaval found Maleficent walking alongside one of the lakes, and he called to her as he approached, already dreading the conversation ahead. He'd considered trying to find one of the Guardians before telling Maleficent, but given her recent mood he'd decided it would be best to just go straight to her. He saw her turn as he flew closer, but he still wasn't prepared for the transformation when it hit, and he ended up stumbling, his fingers brushing the muddy ground as his hands went out to steady himself. He started to make a remark about timing, but caught himself before the words could reach his mouth.

"Well?"

He glanced up sheepishly to see Maleficent glaring impatiently, and a quick look at her staff told him that now would not be a good time to beat around the news. The orb had been fluctuating these past weeks, a steady shift from black to green and back again, indicating just how tense the situation was. He cleared his throat, shuffling anxiously as he tried to think of what to tell her. He knew that regardless of what he said, she would continue with her plots of revenge, but he still thought it wouldn't hurt to tread carefully.

"Well, I saw nothing," he began, ignoring the part of him that cringed at the lie. "But there's all kinds of talk in the kitchens and…uh, the Queen has had the child."

She said nothing, just nodded a bit in acknowledgement of the statement, thankfully not questioning exactly when the child had been born. The orb flickered from green to black, echoing the flickering Diaval could see in Maleficent's eyes. He swallowed nervously before continuing, willing his voice not to betray him.

"It's a girl," he said slowly, his eyes probing carefully for her reaction. "They say her name is Aur-"

"I don't care what they've named the little beast, Diaval."

Her tone was so full of venom he couldn't help but flinch, and the insult caught him so off guard he could do little more than gape wordlessly as she turned on him.

"The only thing I want to know is when the presentation will be. Any _sentiments_ are of no use to me."

He blinked, nodding mutely a moment, making a note to never mention Aurora as more than just 'the child' to Maleficent. She continued to glare at him despite his agreement, and he realized that he had missed the question within her tirade. He winced apologetically, and her eyes flashed once before she repeated herself.

"When is the presentation?"

Oh. "Two weeks from now," he answered, priding himself on managing to keep his voice steady, despite the terror gripping him. "Invitations are being sent out even now, and some of the kingdoms have already arrived. The gates are being left open to allow the guests in and out."

Maleficent made a small, triumphant sort of noise, and he looked up at her questioningly as she nodded a little. "We can use that," she murmured, and Diaval frowned.

 _We?_

"Use what?" he asked, instead, and she scoffed impatiently, but didn't bother answering.

"What else?" she demanded, a strange sort of excitement creeping into her tone, and it unnerved Diaval more than any of her other outbursts combined.

"They are going to ally," he replied, trying to stress the importance of the fact. "Some of the kingdoms are going to join with Stefan's, and there's talk that one of neighboring King's sons' is going to marry Au-the child, once she's old enough."

She waved a hand irritably, frowning slightly. "Senseless trivialities."

"No it's not," he burst out, unable to contain his frustration. "If they can join _kingdoms_ , then they can join _armies_ , which they can then use to _attack us._ "

Maleficent had gone silent and Diaval paused, then paled, startled and surprised at his own actions. Maleficent looked just as surprised as he felt, and he was certain that that surprise was the only thing keeping him from being turned into a bug and stepped on.

"I just meant that…," he stammered, much more subdued. "That it's not what you…that it is important."

"I know what you meant to say, Diaval," she said, her voice low, and Diaval couldn't decide if it was anger or…something else. "You are, however…correct."

He blinked, but said nothing, not trusting himself to speak again without incriminating himself further.

"That's something we will need to address," she continued, unperturbed by his silence. " _After_ the ceremony."

It had been all she'd been able to talk about; the ceremony. How to get into the castle. Which doors led to which rooms. How to get out of the castle. How to tell which doors would be guarded and which not. Knowing which servants were easier to slip past than others. And so on.

Diaval was glad all of his spying was finally being put to use. But the exact usage had still yet to be revealed, and the whole thing left a bitter taste in his mouth and a hard knot in his stomach. Just the fact that Maleficent hadn't responded to his out of place comments had been enough to tell him just how devoted to this scheme of hers she really was. He supposed he should consider himself lucky, in that regard, but he just felt anxious.

 _"_ _I'm worried for her,"_ he admitted to Balthazar. The Guardian frowned, a low rumble signifying his displeasure.

 _"_ _She just won't let go of this idea, whatever it is,"_ Diaval continued, his wings flapping anxiously against his sides. _"And I think that it's going to destroy her."_

"I think you're letting your emotions control you too much, Diaval," Balthazar said wryly, and Diaval cawed indignantly.

 _"_ _How can you say that? Can't you see what it's doing to her already? Just the thought of it…. And I still don't know that it is, so I don't even know what to protect her from!"_

"Protect her?" Balthazar seemed amused by this. "From what?"

From herself, Diaval almost said, but he caught himself, deciding now wasn't the time to reveal his conflicting feelings.

"You must understand, Diaval," Balthazar began, and Diaval grumbled a curse under his breath, ruffling his feathers.

 _"_ _I'm sick of hearing that,"_ he complained. _"I know I need to understand, and I'm trying! She just…makes it so hard to do that."_

"It will pass," the Guardian assured, a fond and knowing sort of look in his eyes. "I've known her since she was just a hatchling. She'll get an idea in her head and it's all she'll think or talk about, but after a while -usually after being reminded of the practicalities-, she'll calm down and forget all about it."

 _"_ _But this is_ Stefan, _"_ Diaval insisted, trying to get him to see, just as he had tried with Maleficent. _"She's not going to let this go. And the_ child _, Balthazar!"_ He flapped his wings again. _"She's planning something and I…I just don't want her to lose herself."_

"Those are very strong feelings of yours, Diaval," the Guardian noted with a rumble. It could have been a laugh or a hum of disapproval.

 _"_ _I just want…I want her…I just don't want to see her become like him."_ He looked up at the Guardian with a hint of steel in his voice. _"I won't let her become a monster."_

"A noble mission," Balthazar said solemnly, and Diaval thought he could see something glinting in his eyes. "How, exactly, do you plan on accomplishing it?"

By being there for her, he might have said. By letting her know when she's gone too far. By recognizing her limits before she realized it herself. By knowing when to back away. By caring.

 _"_ _I don't know,"_ was what he ended up saying. But he would do it, for more than just her sake.

* * *

They were standing on the cliffs this time. It was snowing, the flakes tangling in their hair, melting on their cheeks, tinged with red from the happiness as well as the cold. Maleficent barely felt it, but she shivered all the same, smiling at the boy beside her as he tried to catch the frozen drops in his mouth.

"You look ridiculous," she teased him, and her wings rippled, seeming to laugh in agreement.

Stefan blinked, turning to face her, his own smile barely discernable through the sheet of white.

"It's fun," he said simply, his eyes twinkling. "Don't tell me you've never tried to catch snowflakes before?"

She hadn't, but he didn't need to know that. "I don't need to try," she said with faux haughtiness. Her wings unfolded and she dropped easily off the edge of the cliff, twisting in mid-air to glide upside down, cupping snowflakes in her palm and feeling them cling to her horns and hair like frozen spiders.

She lifted herself up to land beside Stefan once again, shaking the snow from her wings and holding out her hands triumphantly. Stefan frowned, but there was a light in his eyes, and her eyes sparkled a smug gold as he surveyed the neat pile of crystal flakes, completely whole and formed like stars in her palm.

"I meant without magic," he pouted, crossing his arms. "That's cheating, you know."

"Come on, Stefan," she nudged him with one of her wings, and he stumbled before regaining his balance, shooting a fond glare at her.

"Without magic," he insisted, and it was her turn to pout, her wings drooping a little at her sides.

"How am I supposed to do that?"

He raised an eyebrow at her, his lips twitching, and she felt heat rise to her cheeks as she realized his meaning. "Oh."

"Come on, Maleficent," he pestered, mirroring her earlier actions and nudging her. "It's not hard."

"Just ridiculous and embarrassing," she grumbled, but she could never really refuse him, and they both knew it.

Maleficent turned back, lifting her head to glare at the sky, blinking the falling snow from her eyes. She frowned, then huffed a sigh and opened her mouth, her eyes closing against the cold as she did so. Stefan giggled beside her, but she ignored him, feeling nothing but the burning embarrassment as it sizzled against the icy downpour.

"I don't see the point in any of this," she complained, and heard Stefan step closer, his boots crunching in the snow.

"That's because you're not doing it right."

She opened her eyes and whirled on him, but paused her sharp retort as she caught sight of Stefan. His arms were outstretched now, his eyes closed and mouth open once more, the snow catching in his dark curls almost like a crown. He didn't look quite so ridiculous, she mused, watching him closely. Serene, peaceful, like nothing existed but for him and the snow.

"That's the point," a voice whispered low in her ear, harsh and colder than ice. Her breath caught in her throat, and she gasped against the iron grip around her neck. "It's not really about catching the snow, you know. But you never could _stand_ the idea of being humiliated, couldn't look past your pride to see the secret. And look where it's got you now." The voice became even sharper, matching the sharpness of the blade digging into her back. "Look where I've got you now."

Her gasp turned into a strangled cry, her tears freezing instantly on her face and mixing with the snow that blurred the boy before her. He cocked his head, his dark eyes glinting mischievously as he stared at her.

"Have you figured it out yet? The secret?"

The blade moved again, carving deep into her back and tearing through muscle. She may have screamed, but the wind stole the sound, and the boy frowned, shaking his head.

"No, I guess not. You always were stubborn."

The blade hit bone and her scream seemed to tear at something deep inside her as it worked its way up her throat.

"How does it feel?"

 _You're doing it wrong._

"Look where I've got you now."

 _It's not about the snow._

"You never could stand being humiliated."

 _It's a secret._

"Look where you are now."

 _If I told you, would you promise to keep it?_

Her scream broke halfway through, her body refusing to cooperate and letting her fall forward into the snow. It should have been cold, but it was hot, thick and sticky. And black. She blinked, peering through half frozen shut eyes. No, not black. Red.

* * *

Diaval jerked awake, his stomach clenching in a way that told him _danger_ , but when he opened his eyes, the nest was still and silent. He lay still a moment loner, taking stock of his body; arms, legs, feet and hands. He was still propped up against the side of the nest, the broken branches arranged like a wall, the open entrance beside him. The only thing coming in from the door was wind and noise, but even the noise was muffled and silent, not one of the Moor creatures daring to make a sound lest they attract the unwanted attention of their Queen.

Diaval frowned, blinking slowly and allowing himself to take a deep breath, his muscles relaxing bit by bit. His eyes went to Maleficent, who was still sleeping, her back pressed securely into the space between the tree's roots at the center of the nest. Everything seemed fine, and yet he still felt uneasy, like he was being stalked by some hidden predator. He shoved aside the feeling, trying to relax and close his eyes when a sudden noise jolted him awake again.

* * * **Trigger Warning!**

The noise turned into a scream, and his eyes shot to Maleficent, who jerked upright, another strangled cry escaping her as she did so. Even from his position across the nest he could see her eyes; wide and bright green, flicking restlessly from one spot to the next, but not seeming to see any of it. Her breath came in short gasps, and every few breaths she would let out another scream, the sound choked and distorted.

Diaval was on his feet before he was even aware he had moved, making his way over to her cautiously, unsure what was happening or how to respond to it. Her eyes suddenly snapped to his, and he drew a sharp breath as he took in the sheer amount of fear, no-more than fear; terror, panic, and _pain_ and…and…

And he couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't breathe he couldn't….

Drowning, drowning in the noise in the noise in the _pain._

His thoughts or hers?

He didn't really know, only that he was shaking and he couldn't breathe and there was so much pain, like a hand had a hold of his spine and was slowly clenching and unclenching its fist, sending jolts of electricity down his spine with every breath, paralyzing him. Crushing him, crushingcrushingcrushing and…

Is this…?

Death?

Dying.

 _I'm dying!_

Can't breathe and it's too much. Too much!

 _Screaming._

Someone was screaming.

His voice or hers?

He didn't know, but there was something wet on his face, in his eyes.

 _Tears. Crying._

Drowning.

 _Weak._

Breathe. Breathe just breathe just breathe just….

 _Pathetic._

Breathe. You're not weak. It's alright it's alright it's…

 _Not alright!_

Breathe!

 _It hurts._

Just breathe.

 _It **hurts**! _

Another ragged scream jerked him back into his own awareness, but his heart was still pounding in his chest, and it took him longer than he expected to catch his breath. He blinked a few times as his eyes readjusted, and he instantly turned his gaze to Maleficent. She hadn't moved, but he didn't really expect her to, if what he'd experienced was even a fraction of what she was going through. She wasn't screaming anymore, her jaw clenched and eyes shut tight against the pain, her body trembling with each short gasp of breath.

* * * **You're good here.**

He hated this, hated feeling so helpless. Hated seeing her in pain, hated that she even had to feel such pain to begin with. Hated…all of it. But his hatred of the situation wasn't going to help Maleficent. He fidgeted, shifting his weight then tapping his sides in an anxious flapping motion. He needed to calm her down, she needed to breathe, breathe and focus on something other than her fear.

He shuffled a few steps closer, watching her carefully for any sign of a reaction. She was still aside from the tremors wracking her body, her eyes still closed, not a sound escaping her other than ragged choked gasps. He moved slowly, carefully positioning himself until he was just beside her, then he turned and inched his way down the tree's trunk until he mirrored her position, his knees tucked close to his chest.

"It'll be alright, you know," he whispered to her in the darkness. "I know it doesn't feel like it, but….," he faltered, swallowing the hard lump trying to work its way up his throat. He was terrible at encouraging talks. He leaned his head back against the tree, feeling each sharp gasp of Maleficent beside him, trying to think of something else when a song he'd heard some of the village children singing came into his head.

"One two three, owls are in the tree," he hummed, tapping his fingers lightly to the beat. "Four five six, foxes in the sticks. Six five four, goslings on the shore. Eight nine ten, then we start again. Bum bum bum, ba ba ba ba bum."

Maleficent didn't stir, but he could have sworn her breathing was less gaspy, and he cleared his throat a little before continuing, edging himself just a little closer.

"One two three, owls are in the tree. Four five six, foxes in the sticks. Six five four, goslings on the shore. Three two one, now we all go…home."


	17. Gifts

**Hey guys! Sorry I'm so late updating, this was supposed to go up last week, but with upcoming finals for one of my classes, it's been a bit crazy. Updates might be a little slower in the future, as well, so a heads up and apology if the chapters come a little later.**

 **To my reviewers: LotrHobbitJLUFan: You're very welcome! I'm glad I made you so happy with my update. I have a feeling you'll love this chapter, then too, as it features a bit more Maleval fluff and h/c.**

 **Silvara: Thank you so much for the kind words! Unfortunately, there is already an official Maleficent book for the movie, but I'm glad you're enjoying this so much. :)**

 **Siepie: You won't have to wait too much longer, I'll tell you that. ;) I'm glad you're enjoying the story, and thank you for the compliments! :)**

 **Guest: Thanks so much! I always love hearing that people enjoy my writing! I don't plan to ever stop, so don't worry! :)**

 **Loz: I'm glad I got it right. That was the one thing I was anxious about and I kept having doubts as to if I should even include it, but I'm glad I committed. I'm sorry that you have to go through that, but I do appreciate the confirmation. There's more Maleval feels in this chapter, so no need to worry. :)**

 **No warnings apply for this chapter, and it's a bit longer for you because it includes the one thing I know we've all been waiting for. ;)**

 **I hope you all enjoy and I can't wait to hear what you think!**

 **\- Raven**

* * *

 _…owls are in the tree…five six…foxes in the sticks…_

It was the singing that reached her first. Through the haze of blood and snow and pain, someone was singing. A children's song, a nursery rhyme. It was so out of place that it confused her, and the confusion was enough to break through and remind her that her heart was too loud in her ears and her breath was burning in her lungs. She inhaled sharply, the air rushing into her body and instantly relieving the pressure in her chest.

 _Eight ten…then we start again…._

She drew another deep breath, then another, awareness slowly creeping in as the pounding in her head decreased. There was something hard behind her, digging into her back uncomfortably, and she felt a deep pang of fear, her insides twisting as her mind brought back the sensation of a knife.

And drowning.

Drowningdrowningdrown…

 _One two three…owls are in the tree…four five six…foxes in the sticks…_

She drew a slow breath, the voice an anchor drawing her out of the water. Clarity began to filter in, and she realized the roughness digging into her back was the tree forming their nest.

Their?

She blinked, her eyes opening to darkness, everything still and calm, contrasting the turmoil still churning within her. She started to move when something brushed her hand, and she froze, every instinct jumping to attention, divided between shrinking away or fighting the potential threat. She forced another slow breath before looking down, and caught sight of a pale hand, the fingers curling gently and only just brushing the back of her own hand, clenched and shaking beside her.

Diaval.

Her eyes flicked up, following the outline of his arm until she could see him, slumped beside her against the tree. His knees were tented close to his chest, his other hand draped across them. His head was laid back, tilted up towards the branches above them, his eyes closed, slow even breaths indicated by the steady rise and fall of his shoulders.

Sleeping, she realized, but his lips moved, a soft murmur of slurred words she couldn't understand, yet somehow knew instinctively.

 _One two three, owls are in the tree._

 _Four five six, foxes in the sticks._

 _Six five four, goslings on the shore._

 _Eight nine ten, now we all go home._

She frowned, drawing her hand back away from his, reaching up to grasp her staff. The orb swirled, a confusing mix of black and blue and gold, echoing her own confusion. She couldn't remember what had happened last night, after her dream. She knew the dream; knew the ice and snow. Blood and pain. And dying. She remembered dying. But after that…nothing.

She started to sit up, wincing as the muscles in her back clenched and unclenched stiffly, and she whispered a curse through gritted teeth, waiting for the pain to subside before trying again. She was successful this time, and sat carefully against the tree, managing to avoid Diaval's outstretched hand as she did so. Where he'd gotten the audacity to touch her…but she assumed it must have had something to do with whatever had happened last night. The thought was disconcerting, to say the least, and she stared unseeing at the open doorway, trying to push past the lingering fear to understand why.

She wasn't aware how much time had passed, only that it had, but she was aware when Diaval spoke, his voice breaking through her thoughts and jarring her back to reality.

"You're awake," he said, his voice soft and thick from sleep.

Was it sleep? Or had he really been singing….?

"What happened?" she asked, her own voice low, sounding wary even to her own ears.

He sat up fully, and she drew herself just a little tighter, instinctively avoiding his touch. He didn't seem to notice, or else didn't comment on it, instead staring at her closely, hesitating slightly before recovering his voice.

"You…you don't…?"

"Would I be asking if I did?"

He winced, and she faltered, feeling a slight pang of something like guilt. The sharpness felt wrong somehow, but so did the apology she could feel forming in the back of her mind, so she opted to stay silent, waiting for him to speak instead.

"I…you…you were…" he tripped over the words a few times, and her annoyance fled in the face of the realization that he really didn't want to have to say it. She waited, not pressing him for more, yet inwardly bristling at the act of cowardice.

"You were screaming again," Diaval finally whispered, suddenly finding the leaves beneath them to be more interesting than her face.

She started to deny it, to snap at him or otherwise lash out, but the again leapt out at her, holding her back. Again? She'd never…but then she remembered that night, so long ago. How long ago had that been? When Stefan had come to tell her the Queen was ill, and to demand she do something to help. Diaval had said she'd…but he had said again, then, too.

She looked up at him sharply, silently probing for answers. He lifted his head up just enough to notice her staring, to read the unspoken questions, and he seemed to shrink slightly before responding.

"I don't know," he said, helpless. "Dreams, nightmares? I don't know what it is, but you…tonight I…I woke up with this feeling, like something was wrong, but I didn't know... I was going to just ignore it and go back to sleep, but then…you woke up."

His eyes flicked to hers uncertainly, and she found she couldn't hold his gaze, turning her head to watch the colors swirling in her orb, the blue deepening until it was almost black, the gold all but disappearing in the mix. She didn't need to see his face or hear his words of confirmation to know that that was when it had all started. The nightmare. The screaming. She had to remind herself to breathe, trying to shove aside the memory of snow.

"I didn't really know what to do," Diaval continued, his voice quiet and anxious. "I started talking, just trying to…I don't know," he faltered again, but quickly continued. "I thought…and then the song, I…silly, maybe, but…."

No, she thought, shaking her head to stop him. No it hadn't been silly. The song had been the one thing that managed to break through; the one thing anchoring her to reality. Somehow, strangely enough, it had saved her. He had saved her.

"Thank you, Diaval." The words came out rougher than she'd intended, as she fought to convey just how much it had meant to her. How much he meant to her, without cracking her otherwise stoic shield. The sentiment stuck in her throat, and she cleared it, instinct telling her there was supposed to be more than that, but her mind telling her that even that had been too much.

"Thank you." She murmured again, despite the way it chafed, glancing up at him carefully to gauge his response.

He stared, his expression wavering between two uncertainties, and she looked away again, if only to try and deny the tension. He tried to speak, then faltered, his words not even formed, instead coming out as shapeless syllables. She felt her lips twitch in amusement at his speechlessness, even as her stomach clenched as to what it might mean, doubt over expressing her thanks -showing her weakness even further- creeping into her mind.

"There's no…you don't need to…I mean, I didn't do…I mean…you're welcome."

That final statement came out more as a question, as though he, too, were uncertain just what sort of game they were playing. She still felt that pressure; that urgent need for _more_ , but she clenched her jaw against anything that threatened to spill forth. She had thanked him; she wasn't about to suggest that she needed him, as well.

* * *

Diaval felt confused.

The word did nothing to describe just what he was feeling, only that he felt, and that it was all tangled and mixed up inside, just one giant web of feeling. He was relieved to be flying again, now a raven, the rhythmic beat of his wings against the breeze, the colors of the sunrise still painted in streaks along the afternoon sky. It helped clear his head, allowed him a chance to just breathe and try to put everything behind him.

But then he would hear Maleficent scream, sense each gasp of air she took, feel the way her hand trembled against his own. And he'd feel this overwhelming…he didn't even know. He couldn't think of the words to describe it. What was this he was feeling? This urgent need to…protect, to provide comfort, to just be. With her.

He shook his head, cursing the confusion and his feelings. Why did it have to be so complicated? He wasn't even…he was nothing, in the scheme of things. And yet…she had thanked him. Looked to him for comfort, and thanked him for being there. For caring. Caring…the word felt inadequate, for some reason. It was more than that, more than just a sentiment. But what that more was, Diaval had no idea.

He crested the forest edge just beyond the thorn wall, flapping his wings a little harder before coasting, letting the wind's current carry him along for a few feet. The castle was looming in the distance, but he was torn about actually going to visit. Visit. He laughed inwardly at the idea, as though he were actually an invited guest instead of actively spying for the purpose of their downfall. It was an amusing thought, albeit a slightly morbid one. Diaval would have frowned if he was able, but he settled on a disgruntled crow, shifting his feathers and angling him in the direction of the castle.

As he drew closer, he was able to see a steady shifting of movement, a stream of colors flowing in and out of the castle gates. More were going in than out, he realized, and he tucked his wings, dropping into an angled dive that took him just within the midst of the action. Banners streamed from the castle walls, symbols and patterns that he couldn't make out or recognize, though he knew he'd never seen them before. The people coming into the castle all had an air of royalty about them, and he noted several troops of armed men among them, though whether the men were simply guards or actual armies had yet to be clarified.

Diaval scanned the crowds anxiously, his confusion returning tenfold as he tried to understand what was happening. He spotted a familiar figure slipping into the castle through a side door, and he swooped down eagerly, gliding in after her and crowing to announce his presence. Hanna spun around, her eyes narrowed with caution, but they widened into a delighted glimmer as she spotted him.

"It's you," she said, her voice nearly lost in the noise pouring from every facet of the kitchens. He chirped at her in response, shuffling along his perch above her head and trying to convey his curiosity.

"I was afraid you were going to miss it," she said, and he cocked his head at her, chirping again.

"The christening, of course!" she cried, gathering up a few stray plates and beginning to arrange them. "Everyone has come, I can't believe it! So many people, so many mouths to feed. You should see the cooks, Martha is in a state, trying to get everything organized and prepared. I wonder do Lords and Kings still eat barley or is it only special things like fish and pork for them?"

Her voice faded to a dull noise in the back of his mind, only the slight inflections of her words slipping through every now and then. The christening? It was now? But surely that couldn't be, they had said…two weeks, they'd said. It couldn't be now! It couldn't be!

"…gave a different time," Hanna was saying, and Diaval started, flying down to perch on her shoulder so he could hear better. "It was King Stefan's idea to announce it for later, to make sure that witch didn't try and show up, and it seems to have worked. Clever, really, when you think of it."

Yes, Diaval thought numbly. Clever.

He flew off before she could go any further, slipping back out the door and flying as fast as he could back towards the Moors. Not fast enough, he thought. He couldn't possibly get there in time. And even if he did, what would he tell her? He had to tell her, there was no avoiding that. If she were to find out on her own in two weeks…no. No, he had to tell her the truth.

He crossed the border well into the afternoon, and his eyes spotted Balthazar's tree. He landed on the tree and pecked slightly at the branch beneath him. The leaves shuddered, and the tree stretched to form the Guardian, complete with scowling face.

 _"That's rude of you,"_ he grumbled. _"I'm sure you wouldn't like it if I were the bird and you were the tree."_

"I'm sure I wouldn't," Diaval replied, snapping a little more than he'd intended. "And I'm sorry, Balthazar, but this is an emergency."

The Guardian straightened rapidly, his fingers curling tightly around his spear. _"Another attack?"_ His voice lowered to a dangerous growl.

"No, but…the ceremony. It's today. Right now, actually…it's happening now."

Balthazar relaxed only minutely, his frown shifting into confusion. _"But that's not right. You told us two weeks."_

"I know, and that's what I had heard, but it was a trick. Stefan was trying to keep Maleficent away, so he spread the word for a false time. It's now. Where…" he hesitated, flapping his wings nervously. "Where is she?"

 _"Where else?"_ the Guardian answered with a wry smile.

"The Cliffs."

A nod, and Diaval was off, his heart pounding even faster than his wing beats. The Cliffs appeared sooner than he had expected, and he scanned the rocks until he spotted her familiar black robes, and he cawed to her as he neared. She waited until he was close enough to change him, and the moment he had his breath back he spoke, cutting her off before she'd even begun to ask her question.

"The christening ceremony is today!"

She blinked, her features arranging themselves into a confused frown.

"What?"

"The ceremony," he repeated, slowing down his words only partially. "The christening, it's today, not in two weeks."

"But that…," she shook her head, her frown deepening. "That's not possible. You…"

"I know," he said, cutting her off again. "I know I said two weeks, but it's not. It's now. It was a trick, giving a false time. But the christening is now."

He fell silent then, waiting for her response, and he watched as clarity and understanding crept into her expression. She nodded slowly, thoughtfully, her eyes drifting to stare out past the Moors below them and to the shadowed outline of the castle beyond. She straightened, her hand tightening around her staff, and the orb seemed to spark, lit within by a sinister green flame. Diaval paled slightly as she turned back, a smile on her face that was entirely devoid of humor, yet still managed to convey a giddy sort of eagerness.

"Take me there."

She didn't give him a chance to agree or disagree, instead changing him back into a raven before he could even draw the breath to do so. And just like that, they were off, back down the familiar path through the Moors, the thorn wall parting easily to allow them to pass before closing itself up again just as easily. Diaval flew ahead, scouting out the path and swooping back to make sure he didn't lose sight of Maleficent.

The trip passed in a blur, and before he was fully prepared, the castle gates loomed before them, open and inviting, yet somehow foreboding at the same time. Diaval began to make his way towards the servant's entrance, but then he realized Maleficent wasn't following him anymore. Glancing back, he saw her striding confidently through the open gates and into the courtyard beyond.

Cawing in alarm, Diaval banked sharply, flying back to her and trying to catch her attention to direct her the right way, but whether she simply didn't hear or was purposefully ignoring him, Diaval didn't know. But he did know that if they were caught…it didn't bear thinking about.

They had made it into the castle, at least, though where exactly they were going from there, Diaval didn't know. She still hadn't told him the plan, and he was beginning to fear that there wasn't one, but they were in the castle, and there was no turning back now. He landed on Maleficent's shoulder, and she turned her head slightly so she could peer at him from the corner of her eye.

"The throne room, Diaval," she murmured, her voice low and urgent. "Which way?"

He straightened a little, relieved but still nervous. He looked around, the empty hall they were in not lending itself to helping him figure out where they were. He knew they were at ground level, and that the throne room was above them, somewhere, but beyond that, he wasn't sure. He flew from his perch on Maleficent's shoulder, darting down the hallway and praying for there to be a stair. There was, and he flew up it, and into a hallway that looked comfortingly familiar. Suits of armor lined these walls, along with a few banners between them, signifying each family the armor had come from. Yes, he knew where they were now. The throne room wasn't much further, though he did think it strange just how quiet the castle seemed to be.

Maleficent came up the stairs behind him, and he shoved aside his concerns and continued on, down the hall. A few turns, a few doors, some he knew were locked and others open. He hovered in front of one of the smaller doors to the left, and Maleficent pulled it open, putting them into a small enclosed space similar to the hallways they had just walked. Maleficent's orb glowed softly in the dark, a deep blue-black color, and he led her down the new hall.

Shafts of light began to pierce the space at regular intervals, and Diaval started counting. Three, four, five…. At the sixth interval he stopped, hovering again, and Maleficent pushed open the door. They were in another hall-space, but this one was larger and more open, and full of noise and light and the slightly bitter smell of a massive crowd of people all shoved into one room together. The light filtering in was partially blocked by a large tapestry hung at the opposite entrance, its pattern indiscernible from where they stood.

"Where are we?" Maleficent asked, her voice nearly lost amidst the hundred or so others.

Diaval flew towards the tapestry, and her hand followed, carefully pulling aside a corner to look out. He landed on a beam attached to the rafter above, and watched as Maleficent surveyed the area on the other side of the wall, a small smile slowly slipping onto her face.

"You clever bird," she murmured. "How on earth did you find this?"

He straightened a little on his perch, both startled and pleased by her compliment, however slight it might have been. Finding the secret passages hadn't been as simple as he'd originally thought. He'd watched the servants disappearing and reappearing in and out of doors, but when he'd tried to follow, he'd end up facing a wall. It had taken multiple attempts, and a final clue from Hanna, before he'd ended up discovering the trick.

This particular passage just so happened to be located within the throne room itself. Discreetly tucked away behind some tapestries along the back of the room, to allow the servants to come and go without being seen by guests. They could deliver food or drink, and offer easier access for cleaning. Or, as it happened, a hiding spot for one particular faery and raven. Now, Diaval supposed, all it came down to was a trick of timing.

* * *

It was always gold, Stefan thought with a hint of irritation as yet another royal presented their gift. Gold, jewels, and the occasional 'rare' spice. It was never anything interesting like clothes, or even horses. He had heard that in some kingdoms, horses were given as gifts for births. Or was it marriages? He couldn't remember. Only that so far, no one had offered anything interesting. Other than the one southern kingdom who'd given a spinning wheel, of all things. His gaze swept the hall for the countless time, taking in the various faces around them, then glancing anxiously down at Aurora, who still lay peacefully in her crib at the foot of the stairs below.

"You're making everyone nervous with your constant glances," his wife teased from his left. He looked over at her, and she smiled softly, placing her hand on top of his. "Nothing is going to happen."

So you say, Stefan thought darkly. But I know… He shook his head, trying to smile back and only partly succeeding.

"I still worry," he answered. "And it's only fitting since…."

"There is no need to worry," she retorted, shaking her own head for emphasis. "Nothing is going to happen."

He settled back into his throne, willing for her words to be true. He hated crowds, hated having to stand in front of everyone, their eyes watching his every move and waiting for him to make a mistake. But this crowd was inviting, at least. They brought gifts and blessings, wishes for luck and dreams to come true and every manner of sentiment one might hope for. Even the fairies were here, though he felt slightly chagrined by their presence.

As though sensing his thoughts shifting to them, the three fairies themselves approached the throne, giggling and tittering merrily. Stefan had to resist the urge to groan as they bowed in midair, though his wife was laughing softly beside him. She'd grown rather fond of the trio, though how or why eluded his understanding.

"The happiest of congratulations to you both on this special day," the pink one, Knotgrass, opened up, ending her flourish with another bow.

"Yes, congratulations, your Royalnessess." The green fairy, Thistlewit chimed in, also with another bow.

"We present our gifts to the little princess," Flittle announced, her ever present butterflies hovering around her head.

Stefan couldn't help but feel anxious as they approached the crib, Aurora's eyes flicking back and forth in wonder at the three strange creatures. Whatever gifts they bestowed would surely be magical, and even though they were nothing like their darker counterpart, he still felt dread as to what they could possibly be.

"Sweet Aurora," Knotgrass said, her voice soft and full of delight. "I wish for you the gift of beauty." Her gift was given with a shower of pink sparks, that rained down over Aurora and then vanished into the air harmlessly before they could touch her.

"My wish," Flittle whispered. "Is that you'll never be blue, only happy, all the days of your life." Her gift was given in a shower of butterflies, one of which landed on the infant's nose, making her sneeze and causing the surrounding crowd to chuckle in awe. Even Stefan couldn't help but smile, and he relaxed once more, satisfied that their gifts were indeed, harmless.

"Sweet baby," Thistlewit began, her hands twisting around a single dandelion seed. "My wish-"

The candles flickered suddenly in the throne room, a harsh breeze sweeping in and carrying the echoing bang of a door suddenly slamming open. Some of the women screamed, and even the men of the court shouted out in surprise and terror. Stefan felt his wife's hand clench around his, heard her voice crying out, but the words were lost amongst the quiet clicking that was steadily growing louder.

 _Scrape_. Click. _Scrape_. Click.

The crowd quieted as the sound grew, everyone stopping to turn and stare at the lone figure slowly and gracefully making its way up the center of the room. Stefan could do little more than stare as all his nightmares appeared before him in the form of a horned woman, clad in black with a raven perched atop a slender staff, which scraped a final time along the stone floor before coming down on with a final, and foreboding, **boom**.

He blinked. She stared, her lips curling in the barest imitation of a smile. Her eyes bore into his own, a sinister green shade, so different from the eyes he once had known. These eyes staring back at him lacked all the warmth and compassion of their previous life, instead full of the darkest intentions.

"Well, well," she spoke, her words dripping with sarcasm and biting with a bitter aftertaste. "What a glittering assemblage, _King_ Stefan."

Her head turned, surveying the crowd frozen in terror around her.

"Royalty, nobility, the gentry, and…" her gaze seemed to falter ever so slightly as she laid eyes on the three fairies, but it was quickly hidden and replaced by and even deeper layer of bitterness. "How quaint. Even the _rabble_."

Her eyes turned back to him, and he swallowed, his mouth working to think of something to say, anything to do to make this stop.

"You're not welcome here," he bit out, his voice not nearly as commanding as he had hoped it to be.

Her eyes widened in surprise, a wounded look sliding easily onto her face as she placed a hand to her breast, as though his words had wounded her. Furthering the mockery, she took a small step back, her expression falling in disappointment as she let out a small pitiful whimper, which instantly snapped into a laugh, the sound sending a shiver down his spine.

"Oh dear," she said, shaking her head worriedly. "What an _awkward_ situation." She turned her head, as though puzzled and at a loss, but Stefan saw the sharp flicker in her eyes, and his hands clenched tightly around the arms of his throne.

"You're…" his wife began, glancing between Stefan and the faerie, as though she too could read between the lines and recognize the tension. "You're not offended?"

"Why no," she responded, her voice lowering slightly as she turned back, her eyes on the Queen now, a fresh sort of hatred gleaming in them before they widened again in innocence.

"And to show that I bear no ill will, I too, shall bestow a gift on the child."

"No!" He shouted, his voice carrying in the harsh silence. He stood from his throne, his hand flying instinctively to his sword hilt. "We don't want your gift."

Maleficent simply smiled, her eyes gleaming as he turned and strode over to Aurora's crib. Stefan watched helplessly as she surveyed his daughter, her lips pursing in thought. Her raven flew from his perch on top of her staff, landing on the awning of the crib above Aurora's head, peering down at her as well. It seemed perfectly innocuous, but Stefan knew the bird's secret, and he found himself wishing the bird was a man now, if only to be another voice against Maleficent's intended gift. As it was, the three smaller fairies were the ones defending Aurora, hovering front of her crib and glaring viscously at Maleficent as she towered over them.

"Stay away from the princess!" Knotgrass barked sharply, one hand on the crib and the other held out as though to physically stop her approach.

"Yes!" Thistlewit chimed in, usually so quiet and reserved, now demanding and loud. "Stay away!"

Flittle hadn't spoken, but she still glared just as fiercely, and even her butterflies seemed to line up as though forming a small barricade. In that moment, Stefan felt an overwhelming gratitude and admiration towards the fairies. Despite everything he had done, and despite their past, they were still putting themselves in harm's way for his child. For him. It was a futile gesture, but a gesture nonetheless, and Stefan found himself saying a silent thank you to the trio as they were flung across the room, slamming into an open chest and tumbling down within, the lid closing firmly atop them.

"Listen well, all of you," Maleficent spoke, green magic swirling from her fingertips. Stefan shifted forward, as did his wife beside him, the whole room standing with baited breath to hear. "The princess shall indeed grow in grace and beauty, beloved by all who meet her."

"That's a lovely gift," Leila stood beside him, her words coming out faster in their urgency, full of terror and a silent plea. Maleficent's eyes flicked over, surveying first the Queen, and then him.

"Don't do this," he said, his own voice quiet but just as urgent. He knew what this was, had known it from the moment she'd walked in. But here, now; in this way; with his child, _his_ daughter. He shook his head just a fraction, pleading silently. Not like this. Please, not like this.

Maleficent placed a finger to her lips, silencing them and scolding for the interruption. He shifted just a bit closer, to do what, he didn't know, but anything was better than just standing there. Maleficent seemed to pause, her eyes surveying something just off to the side. The spinning wheel.

"But," she said, straightening suddenly and turning fully to face the thrones, her arms lifting and sending the magic surging upwards in a fiery rush. "Before the sun sets on her 16th birthday, she will prick her finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel, and fall into a sleep like death; a sleep from which she will never awaken."

Leila let out a horrified cry beside him, and in the court, several other women echoed the scream. Stefan stood numbly for a moment, still trying to process the words ringing in his ears, the woman standing before him with a vindictive smile. Death. Sleep. Death.

"No," he whispered, the word barely making it past his lips. "Maleficent please! Please don't do this." He stared deep into her eyes, trying to see past the fire and the rage and pain and hate to the woman he knew was still in there somewhere. "I'm begging you."

Something shifted in those eyes, but it only left him with a deeper sense of dread, the knowledge that he had lost.

"I like you begging," she said, and there was a gleam in her eyes, something cruel and entirely spiteful. "Do it again."

He faltered, glancing up at her and trying to pry the connotations from the command. Surely she didn't mean for him to...? But the slight inclination of her head and the very direct shift of her eyes to the ground told him that yes, she did indeed. He glanced out, to the crowd staring in horror and fear, and at the smaller crowd of his advisors to the side, staring with eyes narrowed in warning, as though even with a situation like this, they still disapproved. He closed his eyes, shoving it all aside. This wasn't about him. This was about Aurora.

He knelt.

Ignoring the stares, ignoring the thoughts he knew they were thinking. He knelt on the floor in front of his throne, in front of his people, green flames throwing shadows across his face as he held his arms out, further emphasizing his vulnerable pose.

"I beg you."

"Alright."

He glanced up sharply, thinking that surely it was too much to hope for, that after all this it was even possible for her to show even the smallest hint of mercy. For...

"The princess can be awoken from her death sleep," Maleficent's voice sounded almost benevolent, if it weren't for the fact that it was Maleficent. "But only by...True Love's Kiss."

The words were spat with venom, lips curled in a sneer and eyes like fire as they glared at him. She turned sharply on her heel, both arms outstretched and spreading the fire of her magic even further, her voice lifting and echoing with finality.

"This curse shall last for the end of time! No power on earth can change it."


	18. Cursed

**Hey guys! Sorry it's been so long since I've updated. I have a final coming up next week so I've mostly been working on preparing for that. But this chapter is up, and just in time for Mother's Day. :)**

 **On to the reviews!**

 **LotrHobbitFrozenJLUFan: I'm beginning to be able to spell your name without looking now. ;) I'm glad you loved the chapter, I had a lot of fun writing it. Lots more Maleval feels coming up so don't you worry about that!**

 **Siepie: Thank you for your comments, I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter. I figured that Diaval would learn at least some of the secret passageways in the amount of time he spies on the castle over the months, and I had fun incorporating it in. Also, thank you for pointing out my mistake with the fairies. I actually had made that mistake throughout the story, so I went back and fixed it all. Updated chapters should be up shortly, but I wouldn't have caught it if you hadn't mentioned it, so thank you for that! :)**

 **the lunar queen: Please don't be dead! The chapter is here! ;) I'm glad you're enjoying the story so far. I look forward to hearing what you think later on.**

 **Joan McCreedy: Your comments made me laugh out loud! I'm glad you're enjoying my story so much, and I would be more than happy to have you as a beta reader! I'm usually at least a chapter ahead when I update, or at least working on the next chapter. PM me if you're still interested and we can work something out. :)**

 **InkWizard: Thank you for the review! It's nice to have a new face. :) I'm glad you're enjoying the story.**

 **I know we were (and are) all very excited for the christening last chapter, but the christening is only the beginning. *cue evil laugh* I have quite a lot planned, so bear with me. No warnings for this chapter other than angst, though there is a bit more Maleval development. But mostly angsty feels all around.**

 **I also included another reference to the original Disney Sleeping Beauty, props to those who catch it!**

 **I hope you all enjoy and I look forward to hearing what you guys think in the reviews.**

 **\- Raven**

* * *

The room was on fire.

 _This curse shall last…_

A woman was screaming.

 _Until the end of time…_

A baby was crying, and he couldn't figure out why it was important.

 _No power on earth…_

A woman was laughing.

 _Can change it._

Green. The fire was green, flickering against cloth and metal alike, and he tried to remember, tried to think, tried to _breathe_. Against the pain, against the heat and the crying and the screaming.

Guards, he thought numbly. Guards would stop this.

 _Seize that creature!_ Was that his voice?

 _Stand back, you fools!_ Had she said that?

He didn't know. But the room was on fire and the flames were the green of magic, and a woman was screaming and a baby was crying.

A baby was crying.

 _Aurora._

His baby was crying, and it was because of her.

His eyes snapped up, surveying the shock, the pain, the horror and fear that surrounded him. He didn't see the faces, didn't see the eyes or the people. He saw a bird, a lone black shadow, shrieking a chilling cry as it circled the room.

A raven.

A demon.

He was moving, he realized, a part of him registering the jerky left-right, back-forth. There was more crying. Aurora, but someone else was crying too. A woman.

 _Her?_

No. No, she had been laughing.

And this woman was different, the pain more real and raw in her voice than…

Queen, his mind managed. _Leila._ His wife.

But if that was all, why did he still feel cold? Why was there this heaviness inside his chest? Why was his face wet?

Moving. Walking, running. Had to get out, had to get out of the room. Out of the flames, away from the fire. Stairs. Doors. People, more faces, more words, more crying.

Another door. Another room, but quiet. Empty. Cold.

 _'I told you.'_

Not empty. Eyes flickered, struggled to recognize the glass, the chains, the iron. The wings.

 _'Poor Aurora.'_ The wings rippled, the voice full of vicious glee. _'Poor poor baby.'_

"You." His voice was barely more than a growl as his anger surged forward, burying his pain. "You did this."

 _'You did this,'_ the voice mimicked, seeming to match his glare in tone. _'You did this! You. Did. This.'_

"I…," he faltered, unable to deny the accusation. The truth of what he'd done. But he wasn't the one who'd cursed his child. His anger returned, and his hatred flared again as he turned back to face the voices.

"I should have killed you when I had the chance." He growled, unable to cast the thought aside.

 _'Should have. Should have,'_ the voices sang, echoing the never-ending refrain. _'But you didn't.'_

"No," he agreed, his teeth bared in a vicious grimace. "No I showed you mercy. And this-"

 _'Mercy!'_ The wings flared violently in the glass case, the chains restricting their movement and forcing them to curl up again. _'You say 'mercy?' You…you cursed us first.'_

"What?" He asked, confusion managing to break through for a moment. The wings rippled, the voices hissing and crooning in a bitter choir.

 _'Which is worse?'_ They murmured. _'The curse of death, or the curse of life?'_

He shook his head, at a loss. The voices seemed to laugh, but it was weak, too full of pain to register as scorn.

 _'Life.'_ The voices whispered, fading into the silence. _'Life is worse.'_

* * *

Diaval circled the hall, guilt and despair churning so fiercely in his gut he was almost grateful he wasn't a human. He was certain he'd be sick, after what had just happened. The flames had gradually disappeared, but they left an acrid, bitter taste in the air, the remnants of magic still lingering. The people were frantic, everyone rushing about, whispering, some still screaming or crying, but everyone trying to figure out what had happened. To understand.

The most prominent crying figure belonged to the woman, kneeling on the floor beside the empty thrones. Her hands clutched the sides of the crib in front of her, but each time she reached for the wailing infant inside, they were snatched back, as though she couldn't bring herself to actually hold the child.

The Queen.

He swooped down on an impulse, landing on the edge of the throne closest to her, tucking himself in the shadow of a curtain. There were a few of the King's advisors nearby, but it was mostly serving women and nurses that surrounded her, all trying to provide their own comfort while vainly keeping tears at bay.

"I don't understand," The Queen was saying, her words barely escaping through her tears. "I don't understand. Why?"

She repeated the mantra, rocking slightly as she finally managed to pick up Aurora. The baby whimpered, sensing the pain around her, maybe feeling pain herself, Diaval didn't know. Only that things could never be the same after this. He shuffled carefully along the arm of the throne, trying to stay in shadow and avoid being seen. He lifted himself into the air, making his way out the now open door, and gliding down the halls until he reached the kitchens.

The women there were quiet, mournful and solemn as they worked to clean everything and tuck away any extra food. He slipped down from the rafters and headed towards the far window, anxious to escape the oppressive sadness.

"It was you the whole time, wasn't it?"

The voice stopped him, and he landed on the ledge, turning to face Hanna. She stared at him with a blank look in her eyes, her red hair hanging in wisps about her face and doing nothing to conceal the mark of tears on her cheeks.

"You were spying on us this whole time." She repeated, betrayal and grief thick in her voice. "This whole time, you were reporting back to _her_ , weren't you? That demon you call your mistress."

Her words stung, despite the fact that they were spoken from such anger and hurt. He wasn't entirely sure he could fault her. He certainly blamed himself. He offered an apologetic chirp, and Hanna made a noise like a scoff, her features twisting even further as she turned away.

"The guards are searching the castle. If you are a clever bird, and not just a devil in raven's feathers, you'd do well to be gone. Now."

He nodded, the hollow feeling growing inside as he took off, cawing once mournfully as he made his way back to the Moors. The sun was going down, and by the time he'd arrived, little light remained to see the thorn wall, just marking the edges of the boundary. The wall seemed more foreboding, somehow, the darkness stifling and practically absolute. Gone were the greyish tones that had haunted the place, in their place, darkness now reigned supreme.

He flew by instinct, making his way through the Moors, aware of the eyes he couldn't see, watching him as he went. He ignored them, pressing on towards the heart of the kingdom, to where Maleficent sat on her throne. The lake behind her that had once been alive with the lights of dancing fairies, now sat as still and cold as Maleficent herself. Everything in the Moors seemed colder now, darker, and more ominous than it ever had before.

It was only the familiar sensation of Maleficent's magic that brought Diaval out of his thoughts, and he went through the motions of a bow without really registering what his body was doing. It was too quiet, he thought. As though the whole of the Moor kingdom was holding its breath, or else had fallen victim of the very curse that had just brought so much devastation to their neighbors.

"I don't think I'll be able to go the castle anymore," he said quietly, his voice not even echoing, simply dying out in the silence.

"That doesn't matter," Maleficent answered, her own voice dismissive but strangely light, as well. "It's done, anyway."

It, he thought with a twinge of bitterness. _It's_ done. And what exactly…but Diaval was pretty sure he knew. The plan, her curse. It had been the plan from the beginning. Her revenge.

"Don't you think," he began, then paused, trying to keep his tone neutral. "Don't you think that this will have…consequences of some kind?"

She laughed. Diaval looked up sharply, his eyes narrowing as he stared. She shook her head, a smile pulling at her lips that was all too amused, the look in her eyes bordering on smug.

"You worry too much, Diaval," she said, dismissing his fears with a wave of a hand.

 _You don't worry enough_ , he thought, but he bit his tongue, his jaw clenching with the effort to keep his thoughts silent.

"Nothing more could possibly happen."

 _Nothing will happen._ Is that what Stefan had thought, as he sat there watching all the people? That nothing could possibly happen. But it had.

"He'll come after you for this." His words felt hollow, like they were simply echoing back to him instead of reaching her.

She shook her head, that smile still playing at her lips, her eyes reflecting the sinister green of the orb swirling with her magic.

"I'd like to see him try."

Diaval opened his mouth, prepared to counter, but she spoke abruptly, cutting him off.

"Why can't you just let it be, Diaval?" Her words rang with a hint of annoyance. "Enjoy the peace while it lasts, isn't that what you said?"

He shook his head, his own frustration beginning to surface and forcing his words out before he could stop it.

"This isn't peace! This…this is…" _murder._ "Death," he finished coldly, his eyes locked firmly on hers. "This is death."

"A gift of mercy," she replied, her words clipped and ringing with a warning he chose to ignore.

"A gift of…?" he repeated incredulously, trying and failing to process the thought. "You cursed his _child_ to a fate worse than death, and you call it a gift?!"

He wasn't sure when he had risen to his feet, but he was aware that he was looking down on her, and that there was something about the set of her jaw that told him he'd gone too far. Her eyes flashed violently, the green sparking with emotion as she returned his glare, rising slowly from her throne. The realization that she was taller than him whispered in the back of his mind, and he couldn't help the faltering step backwards that he took as she loomed before him.

"What I choose to call it is none of your concern, Diaval," she said, her voice as cold and hard as her eyes. "It is not your place to question, and I will not tolerate further disrespect. Is that understood?"

He stammered wordlessly a few times, his eyes flickering to hers as he tried to understand; to see past the wall and find what had been there before. He couldn't find it. He couldn't find her, and in that moment he realized there was a chance that he never would.

"Is that understood?" She repeated, and he looked back up at her, at the hard emerald staring back at him.

"Yes," he answered, nodding once stiffly to emphasize his statement. "I understand."

Her gaze lingered for a moment, examining him for something; what, he didn't know. But finally she turned, and made her way back to her throne. He was dismissed, but he hovered uneasily for a moment, his emotions clashing against each other, but all prompting him to say something. He surveyed her carefully, trying to gauge what her response might be, but finally he sighed, shuffling once more before murmuring:

"I'm sorry."

She shook her head, her lips twisting into a bitter frown as she twitched her fingers towards him, dismissing him once again. He nodded grimly, knowing he wouldn't be as easily pardoned if he pushed his limits a second time. He turned on his heel, beginning to make his way back through the shadows when her voice drifted to him, stopping him midstride.

"There are worse things than death."

The words were so low he wondered if she'd even meant to say them aloud, and he hesitated a moment before turning slightly to look back at her. She was still sitting in her throne, leaning against one of the thicker branches and staring out over the dark lake. He couldn't read the expression on her face, but he could see the waver in her eyes, the slightest traces of pain echoing in the green orbs. She looked, almost vulnerable, if he dared apply the word to her, but Diaval knew better than to try and comfort her.

He turned back with an inaudible sigh, trudging back through the Moors and towards the direction of the Pool of Jewels. He ducked and dodged the various branches that reached out to snag him on his way, and he regretted the lack of mobility his current form granted him. The journey would be much easier if he were a raven, he mused ruefully, ducking another branch. He paused, reviewing that thought with a slight pang of guilt, but before he could ponder it too deeply, the Pool finally came into view, along with the twin forms of Balthazar and Ronin.

 _"Diaval,"_ Balthazar rumbled, the moment he saw him. _"What's happened? The Moors…."_ His words trailed off in a mournful sound as Ronin growled fiercely beside him.

 _"If this is to do with that human,"_ he threatened lowly, but Diaval shook his head, stopping both Guardians before they could finish their thoughts.

"No, it's not," he began, then caught himself. It did have to do with Stefan. "Somewhat," he amended carefully, wincing at the dangerous look that crossed their faces.

 _"What happened?"_

"The Christening," he told them. "Maleficent…brought a gift."

 _"A gift?"_ Ronin's tone was wary.

"A curse," Diaval clarified, his expression twisting as he spat the word, grief and sorrow and guilt threatening to choke him once more as he told them what had occurred. "I…It was my fault," he blurted, causing both Guardians to stare in surprise.

 _"Your fault?"_ Balthazar rumbled questioningly.

"I was supposed to protect her; keep something like this from happening. Instead, I did nothing. I let her…," he caught himself, waiting for the stone in his throat to lessen. "I failed."

 _"This darkness is not your fault, Diaval,"_ Ronin said, shuffling closer in a way that would have been comforting if he wasn't twice his size.

 _"He's right,"_ Balthazar agreed, nodding slowly, his eyes solemn and hard as he stared in the direction Diaval had come; as though he could see all the way to where Maleficent sat at the heart of the Moors. _"This is more than just a matter of light. There is nothing you could have done to prevent this."_

Diaval appreciated their efforts, but he disagreed. It was his job to be there for her, whatever she needed, he was the one who was meant to provide it. He had been the one who had kept the fairies' leaving a secret; maybe if he had told Maleficent when they'd asked, a different solution would have arisen. And maybe, if he hadn't told her the truth about the Christening, the curse could have been avoided completely. As it was, however, this darkness was merely the proof, testament to just how far he had failed.

The darkness had grown to near absolute by the time he'd left the Guardians and made his way back to the nest. It was empty, and he lifted his gaze to the Cliffs looming just beyond, wondering if Maleficent had closed herself off there, or if she was still reveling in the effects of her curse. He shoved the bitter thoughts from his mind, and trudged back towards the Pool, and the caves that lay beyond. He knew she would sometimes walk the banks of the Pool when she grew restless or simply refused to sleep, and he determined to be there on the chance that she would arrive.

He settled into one of the more open caves, the wide mouth allowing him to see out and across the section of the Pool nearest him. The chaos and strain of the day slammed into his body full force, and he slumped against an outcropping, blinking hard as he fought against the urge to close his eyes. He couldn't fail again. He wouldn't. He shook himself, cursing the sudden boredom that arose without having feathers to preen to distract himself. The moon rose, and he watched as the light seemed to penetrate the surface of the Pool, rippling and swaying soothingly in the dark. His last thought was just how empty the Pool looked without the fairies dancing on its surface, before his eyes slipped closed, and sleep finally took him.


	19. Control

**Hey guys! I'm so sorry this chapter was so long in coming, but I'm back, and I promise the next update won't be as long!**

 **Before we get to the reviews, I just wanted to shout out a thank you to Joan McCreedy, my incredible beta reader! She's the reason this chapter looks as good as it does, and so thank you so much Joan for your time and patience! You're the best. :)**

 **Ok, so reviews:**

 **Joan: Thank you! I'm glad you felt like the angst was well written. I always struggle with angst because I'm never sure how much is too much. But I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter.**

 **LotrHobbitFrozenJLUFan: Got it again, lol. ;) I'm glad you loved the chapter.**

 **Siepie: Thank you for the kind words. Yes, I felt like at that point, there was a true separation of feelings there, both Maleficent and Stefan cutting ties with their past selves and relationships, and so he isn't even able to think of her the same way. I'm glad you caught that! And yes, poor Hanna and Diaval. There will definitely be consequences, as we'll see in the next chapter.**

 **Loz: I'm not sure what the problem was, but your reviews did eventually show up on the site, so I was able to view them in full. :) The christening was fun to write, and I already knew at the beginning that I wanted it to be from Stefan's POV, and I really dug deep in finding the human side of him and getting into how this affects him. The aftermath was actually really hard to write, because I had to figure out how they would react to this, but I'm glad to hear I got it right and that it touched you so deeply. Thank you for your thoughts and kind words; my final did go well and I passed the class! :)**

 **Ok, on to the chapter. It's a bit shorter, but the next chapter won't be long in coming. Warning for just general angst and feels (this will be a thread), but we get a bit of a flashback chapter and delving into some more backstory so I hope you guys enjoy!** **I look forward to hearing what you think in the reviews!**

 **\- Raven**

* * *

He was awake again before he fully was aware of himself, and he blinked dazedly as he tried to process where he was. Shadows danced along the cave walls, illuminated by a faint blue glow, and after a moment, he recognized the tinted blue light as moonlight, the dancing shadows caused by the ripples on the lake. A darker shape appeared on the other side of the lake, just a vague outline of a figure, and he stared at it sleepily for a few moments, not fully processing what he was seeing. Then he remembered where he was and what had happened, and he sat up sharply, wincing as his head spun from the sudden shift of balance. The figure clarified even further once he was upright; becoming a person, and he scrambled to his feet instantly, cursing himself for falling asleep as he stumbled, forgetting his feet for a brief moment.

He left the cave and approached Maleficent slowly, mindful of any loose stones or sticks that might preemptively alert her to his presence. She stood beneath the willow tree, its branches bare but for a few buds beginning to make themselves known along the upper boughs. The fairies were drifting lazily along the lake, their light reflecting off of the stones and jewels in the water beneath them. It occurred to Diaval how strange the sight was, but he wasn't entirely sure why.

He was just about to call out to Maleficent when she turned suddenly, and his breath caught in his throat, all thoughts gone from his head in an instant. Her eyes were bright as they surveyed the area, the dark gleam now gone from the emerald green, and her wings…. Her _wings_! It took Diaval a moment to understand, but even once he had, he stared all the same, watching as they curled around Maleficent's shoulders in an almost protective manner as she turned to face the direction of the thorn wall. They unfurled silently at a soft word from her, lifting her into the air, and Diaval panicked as he was suddenly left behind, and he ran after her shadow, dodging branches as he went.

He'd experienced flight from Maleficent's view in dreams, but he still marveled at just how fast she was, how steadily her wings carried her through the clouds and out of sight. He burst from the tree line, stopping short when he realized the thorn wall was gone; the boundary instead being marked by two giant stone statues, barely discernible in the moonlight. He stared out across the open space, marveling at the expanse of land, then started as a sudden sharp snap of twigs alerted him to another presence.

"Maleficent?" The figure whispered, hovering along the border and peering warily through the trees.

Diaval stiffened, recognizing Stefan instantly, despite his now youthful appearance. He wondered if there was any way he could wake from this dream, to avoid reliving yet another memory, but he was forced to watch nonetheless. Stefan took a half step forward, his toes just barely scraping the boundary line, his expression simultaneously hopeful and fearful.

"Maleficent!" He called again, his voice pitching only slightly to betray his emotions.

Diaval glanced around himself, wondering where she was, when he noticed a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye. Turning his head, he saw her standing in one of the trees nearby, one hand on the trunk beside her, watching everything with sharp eyes. Her face was closed off, but Diaval could see the conflicting thoughts in her eyes; the desire to see Stefan along with something bordering on hurt. Her wings were still curled tightly around her shoulders, but they unfurled as she directed her gaze to the ground, Stefan giving up in defeat and turning away just as she dropped smoothly behind him.

Her wings gave a slightly audible flap as she landed before tucking away, and Diaval wondered if it had been intentional, as he knew she could be completely soundless if she wanted to. Stefan paused at the sound of her wings, but it was her voice that caused him to turn, his eyes flickering slightly with her words.

"So," she said coldly. "How's life with the humans?"

Betrayal, Diaval realized as he peered closer at her face. It was betrayal in her eyes, in her voice, in the stiff position of her wings. She felt betrayed, somehow, that Stefan lived among the humans. He frowned, confused by this revelation, but Stefan shifted beside him, and he turned his attention back. Stefan raised his hands in a placating manner, as though he knew all too well her feelings but was trying to sway her from them.

"Maleficent," he said again, wincing ever so slightly at the glare she cast him when he stepped closer. "I've come to warn you. King Henry…they mean to kill you."

Diaval started at the news, but Maleficent simply lifted her chin in a haughty gesture, as though amused by the prospect. Stefan was panicked, though, rushing through his words in desperation, and Diaval found the feeling was genuine, as the young man shuffled just a little closer to the faerie.

"Please," he pressed, extending his hand slightly. "You have to trust me."

Maleficent had softened at the please, but she had relaxed completely by the time he'd finished, her eyes full of emotion as she stared at him.

"Of course I trust you," she murmured, and Stefan slumped in visible relief, a weak smile flickering across his face at her words.

Diaval tried to shout a warning as Maleficent turned to reenter the Moors with Stefan close behind, but the ground seemed to shift and turn beneath his feet, and his cry was lost in another shout.

"Maleficent!"

He shook his head as the vertigo from the sudden shift struck him, and his eyes narrowed as he caught sight of the boy hovering by the edge of the Moors. He didn't know why he was reliving these memories, but he didn't want to have to face them, didn't want to see Stefan as anything other than a monster. But the curly haired youth before him now was anything but monstrous, as he cupped his hands around his mouth and called once more for Maleficent. She appeared almost instantly in a sudden rush of wind and sound, her wings flapping hard to steady her as she touched down in front of him, causing him to stumble and lose his balance.

"Quiet!" She hissed, her eyes flashing once in anger. "Do you want the whole of the Moors to know that I'm bringing a human into the kingdom?"

"Sorry," Stefan murmured, shrinking under her fiery gaze, no less intimidating even if she was only a child. She shook her head, softening at his expression, forgiving him in an instant. She extended a hand to him, pulling him up to his feet easily, and her wings brushed against him as he moved by her side.

"I thought they already knew I was here," Stefan said, as they walked through the forest leading into the Moors.

"No," Maleficent shook her head. "They don't, and I'd like to keep it that way. For a little while, at least."

"Oh," Stefan said, dropping his gaze to the ground. Maleficent huffed beside him, the wing closest to him reaching out and batting him on the head.

"Don't do that," she scolded, her expression shifting between annoyed and fond.

"Do what?" Stefan questioned, rubbing his head and scowling at her wings, which hovered too close for comfort.

"I'm not embarrassed of you," she continued, ignoring his look. "I know that's what you're thinking."

"I wasn't," he began, but fell silent at the glare Maleficent threw his way. "Well, then, why can't they know?"

"Humans don't come into the Moors," she answered, her voice quiet as they reached the lake. "Not for anything good. Those that do get lost and wander across the border are redirected by Balthazar. They usually stumble back out of the woods sometime later, claiming to have seen mysterious creatures; but no one believes them, and we stay safe."

"So, I'm the first, then?" Stefan asked, his own voice mirroring her quiet tone. Maleficent's expression clouded, her free hand coming up subconsciously to grasp something around her neck.

"No," she whispered, her voice echoing with memories of pain. "You're not the first."

Diaval peered closely at the object in her hand, and he realized it was a necklace, thin rope wrapping around a dark grey stone, the edges carved into a shape. He couldn't make out what it was, but the stone itself had gone smooth, polished over by the same fingers that fondled it now, pale and trembling oh so slightly. Stefan seemed to recognize the flickering emotions in her eyes, and he quickly strove to change the subject.

"If you're future ruler of the Moors, why can't you just do what you want? I mean, aren't you in charge?"

Maleficent drew out of her reverie at the sound of his voice, and she smiled a little at his question, amusement lighting in her eyes and replacing the gloom.

"I'm not 'in charge,' Stefan," she said with a slight laugh. "We don't have that here."

"But I thought…"

"I'm not the future ruler, I'm the future Protector." She said the title with just the same amount of pride and respect one would have given the title of King or Queen, and Stefan frowned, his confusion only growing.

"There are no Kings or Queens, in the Moors," Maleficent explained patiently. "Instead, we have Protectors."

"But don't you have power?" Stefan asked, and Maleficent frowned slightly. "I mean," he continued. "What does a Protector do?"

"Guards the Moors. Makes sure the rules of nature and the rules of the kingdom are kept and respected. Fights any intruders, if necessary, and keeps their people safe."

"But that's exactly what a King does!" Stefan cried, lowering his voice again at Maleficent's sharp, "Sh!"

"It's not quite the same," Maleficent insisted. "A Protector doesn't have any greater power over its people. They don't force authority."

"But then how do you control everything?"

She looked scandalized at the idea, and stopped short, turning to face him with an unreadable expression on her face. "I don't."

They kept walking, and as Diaval turned to watch them go, the ground turned with him, the clouds shifting and thickening, darkness descending and giving way to light. The leaves on the trees turned russet and gold, copper and bronze and fiery as the sun hit them, and Diaval started at the sound of a harsh laugh nearby. He jumped away as a blurred figure suddenly rushed past him, the same harsh laugh issuing from it before it was gone in a flash of dark curls and a spray of leaves.

Diaval hesitated only a moment before running after Stefan, his eyes locked on the direction he had gone, following the sounds of laughter. The beat of wings drew his attention to the sky as he caught up with the boy, and looking up, he just caught a glimpse of Maleficent as she flew above the trees, her own laugh ringing through the air. Stefan glanced up at the sound, and his eyes flashed with determination, pushing forward along the ground.

Diaval slowed his pace as they approached the edge of the trees, and Stefan burst into the clearing with a triumphant noise that quickly died off. Maleficent sat in the grass, playing with some leaves in her hands, her wings spread out from her body.

"What took you so long?" She teased Stefan as he collapsed beside her, falling back and letting his head rest in the leaves on the ground.

"I…," he gasped, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. "I call…foul."

"Foul?" Maleficent questioned, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

"You…you have an unfair…advantage." He pouted, poking a wing with his finger. The wings fluttered at his touch, and Maleficent laughed at his sore expression.

"Fine, I'll race you back on foot. Then when I win, there will be no question that I'm faster."

Stefan cried out indignantly in response, while Maleficent grinned, and dropped her handful of leaves on his face, laughing as he spluttered. He drew his hands up to wipe the leaves away, trying to glare but failing in the face of her mirth. He smiled, then threw the leaves back at her, his own laugh filling the air at the look of surprise on her face. Chaos ensued, as leaves were thrown back and forth, and Diaval didn't know whether to laugh along or cry, unable to process seeing the two of them like this, and knowing just how far they'd come from the people they used to be. Stefan won the leaf war, when Maleficent finally spread her wings and flew straight up to avoid his attacks, and they settled down in relative calm to stare out over the Valley.

"You know," Stefan mused, as they watched the sun begin to set. "Someday, I'm going to live there." He pointed to a black spot on the horizon, blurred by the sun. "In the castle."

Maleficent squinted to make out the structure, her features drawing into a thoughtful frown. "Where do you live now?" She asked, turning back to him, and Stefan cast his gaze aside, twisting a leaf in his hand.

"In a barn," he mumbled, both disdain and shame filtering into his voice, though his face stayed carefully blank.

Maleficent watched him closely, understanding in her eyes. Diaval noted that pity was absent from her expression, and her lips twitched upwards into a playful grin as she spoke.

"Is it a nice barn?"

Stefan chuckled a little at that, turning back to face her. "It's a lovely barn," he said, rolling his eyes, and Maleficent laughed while he chuckled a bit more.

"I live in a tree," she offered, and Stefan shook his head, his eyes flickering slightly at that.

"You live in a magical kingdom," he countered, and though his tone was light, Diaval could see a hardness in his eyes that Maleficent failed to notice. "And one day, you'll rule it. Honestly, I'd trade the tree for the barn any day." He stood, brushing stray leaves out of his hair and off of his clothes, not turning back when Maleficent scrambled up beside him.

"I'm sorry, Stefan," she said quietly. "I didn't mean to make it seem like…."

"No," he cut her off, sighing a little. "It's fine. I shouldn't have said that. I didn't mean it."

"There are other places you could live," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "If you wanted."

"What?" Stefan replied, his brow furrowing in confusion as he turned to her.

"I mean," she continued, shuffling nervously. "I mean, you could always...live here…if you wanted."

Diaval visibly faltered, unable to anything more than stare as Stefan turned fully towards Maleficent, shock doing nothing to describe his feelings.

"Really?"

Maleficent nodded slowly, her eyes lifting to his carefully. "It's no castle, but," she shrugged a shoulder, her wings rustling softly. "You'd be free here."

"I…I think I'd like that," Stefan said, his eyes meeting hers, an openness there that Diaval didn't think he'd ever seen.

"You'd even get your own tree," she added, and Stefan laughed.

"As long as I get to pick the tree."

Maleficent smiled then, excitement flooding her features. She looked as though she wanted to hug him, but something made her pause, and instead when she drifted forward, it was to whisper, "Tag," as she tapped him on the shoulder.

Her wings unfurled and carried her backwards before he could react, and she spun on her heel, sprinting barefoot back down the path they'd come from, brushing right past Diaval as she did so. Stefan blinked, but then shook his head, smiling fondly and chuckling as he straightened on the edge of the cliff. He hesitated, his expression clouding over as he stared after Maleficent, turmoil playing in his eyes. He turned his head and stared at the outline of the castle in the distance, the approaching evening almost blocking out its presence. Then he turned back sharply, shaking himself, and his eyes cleared as he sprinted down the path, laughing once again.

* * *

The laughter was gone when Diaval's eyes opened again, a heavy silence once more filling the place. A soft noise caught his attention and he sat up sharply, greeted by the sight of Maleficent sitting across from him in the cave, her eyes shining in the darkness. Real this time, and not a memory, the absence of her wings all too apparent in the empty space behind her. He shifted nervously on the stony outcropping that had served as his bed, unsure how to break the silence.

"Go ahead, then." She broke it, her voice hollow sounding in the darkness. "Ask your questions."

He hesitated at that, hearing the memories echoing in her tone, bitterness and sadness lighting her eyes. He didn't know how she knew what he'd seen, but comfort was what she needed now, not judgement. And certainly not any question that would cause another nightmare. Diaval worked his mouth, trying to think, and wondering how to reach out. She remained still, waiting for him to speak, and finally he decided, and carefully asked:

"Who won the race?"

Her eyes flickered at that, and he knew she had been expecting something else. She was silent a moment longer, her lips quirking slightly in a smile as she pondered the question, and Diaval felt a slight glimmer of hope that maybe he had succeeded, in this one thing at least.

"He did," she finally said, the smile filtering into her voice, her eyes reflecting the happiness of the memory. Something about the slightly mischievous glint gave Diaval the impression that there had been more to it, and he shifted forward slightly as his own shy smile began to form.

"Did you let him win?"

A rare laugh slipped past her lips, and Diaval felt his stomach flutter at the sound. She didn't answer, but the laugh was the only confirmation he needed, a sign that maybe the darkness hadn't claimed as much of her as he thought. The laugh died too soon, but her smile remained, just hovering in the light of her eyes. Diaval watched her closely, trying to understand the fluttering inside him, to reconcile it with the person before him. Was it because he'd made her laugh? Was it that the memories she was remembering now were happy, or was it something else?

He noticed that the orb on her staff was swirling with gold, completely void of the sinister green and black shades that had taken up residence. Did this mean that there was hope after all? He didn't know, but her smile was fading from her eyes too suddenly for his comfort, a heaviness settling into her expression and replacing the previous joy.

"He never could stand the idea of losing."

Her voice was cold, and Diaval watched helpless as the walls went back up in her eyes, the orb darkening once more. A scowl twisted her features, and Diaval's stomach sank as she rose from her seat, pacing the small space vindictively.

"He always wanted to be in control," she continued, her tone matching each angry stride. "To have power. He couldn't have that here, so he found it elsewhere."

Her eyes snapped up to stare out of the cave, as though she could see all the way to the thorn wall, and the castle beyond.

"I hope you're satisfied with your power, Stefan," she hissed, green sparking on top of her staff. "I hope you're pleased with everything it has brought you." She smiled, a joyful, vindictive grin that dashed all of Diaval's hopes.

"I hope you're enjoying yourself. Because I am."


	20. Breaking

**Hey guys, sorry I'm so late updating, school and life got in the way. Excuses aside, here is the latest chapter, and the angst is still thick in the air as we deal with the aftermath of the curse.**

 **Before we begin, a quick shoutout to my beta reader, Joan McCreedy! Thank you for all your help Joan! This chapter wouldn't be what it is without you. :D**

 **To my reviewers: EmpathyBlues: I'm glad you're enjoying my story, and it makes me feel really good as a writer to hear you say that you can feel for my characters as well. Yes, Stefan is quite crazy, but in the end, they're all still human. Glad you picked up on that. :)**

 **Guest: Thank you for your kind words! I'm glad you're enjoying my writing and the story, and I hope you continue to enjoy.**

 **LotrHobbitFrozenJLUFan: Yes, there is quite a lot of angst, but I'm glad I made you smile. I hope you continue to read and enjoy.**

 **On to the chapter! For anyone who is interested, Stefan's lullaby is from a song called "Lullaby for the Sun" by Fleur. Here's a link in case anybody wanted to hear it for themselves: /watch?v=UluFzSG5LGc** **(Lyrics are in the video description)**

 **And I do not own Maleficent or the song that is used in this chapter. No warnings apply except for angst, so be prepared to feel. ;)**

 **Also, there is both a Wicked and a Princess Bride reference in this chapter for those with keen eyes. Chocolate chip cookies to all who catch them and review. (Or peanut butter if chocolate isn't your thing.)**

 **I hope you guys enjoy the chapter and I look forward to hearing what you think in the reviews!**

 **\- Raven  
**

* * *

"It seems the sun is tired of shining," he crooned lowly, holding the squirming bundle tightly in his arms.

"Stefan."

"It seems the sun is just weared."

"Stefan, please."

"Lie in the clouds, take a rest. I'm going to tuck up the blanket." He adjusted the soft material, ensuring it was protecting her sufficiently.

"Stefan, answer me."

His wife's tone cut through his whispered lullaby, and he turned slowly to face her, Aurora finally still in his arms. He was certain she was feeding off of the emotions around her, and that her restlessness and crying was a side effect of the turmoil, but it only made things harder. Leila frowned through her tears, and Stefan tucked the blanket closer around the infant.

"Why won't you take her?" He questioned her instead, and she dropped her eyes, refusing to look at him.

"I can't."

He swallowed hard and grit his jaw, knowing he would start yelling if he opened his mouth now. He turned his eyes back to Aurora, the words of the lullaby coming back to him.

"Sun, forget about everything. I'll be guarding your sleep if you want-your dream that is sweetest and shortest."

"That's enough," Leila stood suddenly, and Stefan drew his eyes up once more.

"What do you want from me?" He asked, his voice soft but echoing her hardness.

"I want to know why this is happening." Her eyes, normally soft and blue, were brittle icy orbs. He glanced away, unable to face the accusation he could see in them, but her words still followed him. What could he possibly say to explain this?

 _We used to friends until she turned on me._

 _I used her to gain a position of power and now she wants revenge._

 _I loved her._

The last revelation struck somewhere deep inside, and he glanced back down at the child in his arms. He had thought of building a life with her, once upon a time. In another life, Aurora could have been _their_ daughter, growing up in the Moors just as he had. But now….

"Please, Stefan," Leila said again, and he sighed, turning back to her and adjusting Aurora in his arms.

"We knew each other, a long time ago," he began slowly, carefully weaving together truths and lies. "When I was still a boy, I got lost and wandered into the Moors and met her. Instead of killing me, she…." He faltered, his words slurring to a stop.

Too much. Too close.

"What happened?" Leila whispered, her voice softer as she guessed the story from there.

Stefan made a bitter noise in his throat, a sad smile twisting his lips.

"Life. We had already been drifting…more than just drifting."

He remembered the arguments, still. There'd been more arguments in the days leading up to his departure. Too many hurting words, too much pain.

"Breaking," he murmured. "We were breaking apart, and when King Henry attacked, it sent her over the edge. She was convinced I'd somehow betrayed her, played a part in the war."

He shoved aside the nagging guilt, the knowledge that he had in fact, played part in that as well. "I became her enemy. And now this, this _curse_ …her way of paying me back for the betrayal."

Leila said nothing for a moment, her eyes locked on Aurora, her hands clenched in her lap.

"There's nothing we can do?" she asked hoarsely, her eyes flickering to his before looking away again. "There must be some way to mend…an apology, or something."

"Leila, if there was anything, you know I would do it," he said fiercely, stepping closer to her. "But a beast like Maleficent can't be reasoned with."

"So what do you propose we do?" she bit out, pain and anger and bitterness overwhelming in her tone, choking her off as tears began to fall. "Just stand by and watch? Watch Aurora grow up, knowing what is coming, just waiting and watching her die slowly?"

Stefan struggled to keep his own tears at bay, knowing that every word she spoke was true. Painfully true…and all his fault.

"We hold her," he said, extending Aurora to her. "We hold onto her for as long as we can, and we love her, and give her everything."

"How?" Leila cried, her voice raising and waking Aurora, who began to whimper. "How do we do that, Stefan?" She gasped, bringing her hands up to cover her mouth as he tried again to hand Aurora over. "I can't. I can't do that."

She fled from the room before he could respond, and Aurora began to cry in earnest. The door slammed closed, and he bent over, clutching Aurora close to his chest and finally allowing his own tears to fall. How could they survive something like this? His words were all he had to hold onto, but how could they do even that?

"A young and timid moon…is hiding its face in its hands…for it knows your sleep-your dream that is sweetest and shortest."

* * *

Diaval had thought he'd known what Maleficent was like. He'd thought he was wrong to think of her as heartless, to see her as anything other than who she was. He'd believed there was something more to her, and had felt…something. But looking at her now, as she smiled and laughed at the pain she had caused, he didn't think he knew anything anymore.

Everything was breaking apart. The Moors were cloaked in a near perpetual darkness, the sun refusing to come anywhere near the place. The Moor creatures avoided even Diaval now, seeing him as too close to Maleficent to provide any safety or reassurances for their part. He wasn't entirely sure he could fault them; _he_ certainly felt like he was in too deep. Regardless of the situation, he would stand by Maleficent. What did that say about him?

 _"_ _Balthazar, am I good?"_

The Guardian looked startled, and even Ronin paused in his patrol to cast a look his way.

"What kind of question is that?" the older twin asked, and Diaval ruffled his feathers nervously, answering with another question.

 _"_ _Is Maleficent good?"_

Balthazar fell silent, and Ronin tensed, abandoning his patrol to come over and join them.

"Where are all these questions coming from?" he asked, and Diaval glanced away, watching the shadows shorten beyond the wall as the sun rose outside.

 _"_ _You haven't answered,"_ he said, and the twins exchanged a look that he couldn't read.

"Of course Maleficent is still good," Balthazar answered, but Diaval straightened on his branch.

 _"_ _You hesitated,"_ he said, and Ronin scowled.

"Diaval what-"

 _"_ _I don't know!"_ he cried, flapping his wings anxiously. _"I-I don't know."_

And he really didn't. He had thought he understood how things worked, but this curse had changed everything. He didn't know if he was only now seeing Maleficent's true colors, or if this had been a gradual process, something that he missed somewhere along the way, a sign or a clue, anything that could have told him what was happening.

 _"_ _I don't know if I missed something, or if…if I just wasn't seeing or…I just…I…."_

"Diaval," Balthazar sighed, his tone mournful as he stared at the raven. "None of this is your fault."

 _"_ _I know,"_ he muttered, ruffling his feathers again. And he really did know, but it didn't change what he felt.

"There's nothing that anyone could have…there's no undoing the past."

 _"_ _But what if it was something I could have done?"_ he insisted. _"If I could have done something, and didn't, and that led to…to this…does that make me as bad as…her?"_

"What do you mean, something you could have done?" Balthazar asked, at the same moment Ronin growled, "She's not bad!"

 _"_ _I was there,"_ Diaval replied lowly, hanging his head in shame. _"I was there, at the Christening, and I did nothing but_ watch. _What does that make me?"_

"You're not a bad person, Diaval," Balthazar said gently. "Or a bad raven."

"And neither is Maleficent," Ronin insisted fiercely, gripping his spear tightly in his hands.

Diaval remained silent, unsure what to believe. Good people didn't curse children, even if it was a child of their enemy. And good people didn't stand by as witnesses, following instead of standing for what was right. But bad people didn't rescue helpless birds from farmer's traps, either. They didn't help trees grow or heal them when their branches broke. They didn't care about the people close to them; they didn't _have_ people close to them; they had people they used as stepping stones.

If Maleficent wasn't good, but wasn't bad, then what was she? And what did it make him, as her…what was he, anyway? Friend seemed too…small of a word to describe their relationship, but 'relationship' was too big. Confidant, he supposed, closer than a friend, but not too close. It was hard to get too close to her with all the walls she put up. He had come close, though. Before the curse had destroyed everything, he had thought that there might have been a chance for…something. But now….

Now he was walking beside Maleficent as she patrolled the borders, silent as he stared at the ground. The leaves were beginning to turn, flowers and buds popping up intermittently along the path. Diaval frowned at the blossoms, thinking they had a lot of gall to show up when so many things were going wrong. Some may have viewed it as a sign of hope-that life could still prosper, but he'd come to realize that nothing prospered within the thorn wall. Not for long.

"What are you thinking about, Diaval?" Maleficent's voice was calm, too light for his mood.

"Life," he answered quietly. She laughed, and his frown deepened. Once he would have been smiled to see how much happier she was now; but the price of her happiness was too high, too painful to acknowledge.

"Have you heard anything more from the castle?" She asked, and he tensed, shaking his head.

"I haven't gone near the castle since…since the Christening."

She made a thoughtful sound, pausing to rebuild a section of the wall. "It's been long enough. Surely there's been some news."

A month, he thought sourly. A whole month since that fateful day, and yet even in the Village things were quiet, everyone still mourning the loss. The loss; as though the princess was already dead.

"No," he muttered, his toe kicking a stone as he they moved on. "Nothing."

She hummed quietly, and he fought against the words threatening to spill from his mouth. Before he could lose the struggle, the warm tug of her magic filled him, and he rose gracefully above her head as a raven.

"Go and find out what you can," she ordered, and he nodded his head once, gliding silently over the wall and out into the light.

He understood what the fairies had meant, now. There was no more light in the Moors, and he didn't think there ever would be. The Village rose before him all too quickly, and he angled himself lower, so he flew more at the height of the smaller birds more common to the town. He knew the trick wouldn't do much, they already knew about the 'demon raven' that Maleficent had used to spy on them. But it was something, at least.

He approached the center of town, and perched on a house close to the stalls selling meat, blending in with the natural birds that were already there in hopes of furthering his guise. The people were still silent, however, only discussing the things that were happening in the town, and casting pitying mournful looks in the direction of the castle. The usual questions of 'why?' and 'how could this have happened?' kept drifting up, and Diaval only wished he knew the answer.

He sighed, flapping his wings and lifting off from his perch. It was no use. If he wanted answers, he would have to go back, even if it was risky. They knew him even better at the castle than in the Village, the whole court having seen him with Maleficent at the ceremony. And Hanna…. He felt a pang of sorrow. Even Hanna would hate him now.

He startled as he approached the castle, the sight that greeted him not what he had been expecting. Black. The whole castle was decorated in it, black banners hanging down from the walls, midnight colored flags flying from the tops of the towers. Even the newly stationed guards in the turrets-archers, judging by their clearly notched bows-wore black armor, a testament to the grief that filled the place.

He kept his distance, adjusting his position so that he flew parallel to the castle instead of directly at it, hoping to avoid arousing the archers' suspicion. Surely they were there for him; there couldn't be many other explanations. But they posed a problem. Even from this distance he saw several turn their bows his way, and he scanned the skies, anxious for another alibi.

It came in the form of a flock of smaller birds darting about above him, and he soared up towards them, hoping to slip into the fold and fly alongside them. Instead, the birds scattered, screeching insults at him and dive bombing him for his audacity. He cawed furiously at them in response, glancing over to see the other guards staring, wondering about the fuss.

He nearly dropped from the sky in his panic, but as another bird began to dive bomb him, an idea struck him. He folded his wings, avoiding the assault, then looped back around so he was now above the flock. Scanning for a more vulnerable bird, he put on a burst of speed and dived, scattering the birds even further and striking one a glancing blow with his talons. The bird reeled, stunned and confused at the sudden turn of events, and the rest of the flock quickly began to disperse. Diaval chased them down, calling out his own insults as he dove and spun, reveling in the moment. He gave a sigh of relief as the guards turned away; ignoring what would look to them as a hawk or some other predator hunting prey.

He veered off from the panicking birds, apologizing for his assault even as they cursed him, diving away and coasting alongside the castle, reaching the servant's entrance with no further trouble. Slipping inside, he found himself once more in the kitchens, and he soared along through the halls, letting the shadows cloak him as he travelled by instinct down the halls.

He was wondering where to begin his search for information when raised voices reached his ears, and he banked sharply, slipping down a hidden hallway and following the noise. At the end of the hall, a single door was barred shut; the voices echoing from inside the room. Diaval frowned to himself, trying to think of a way in. He flew back down the halls, searching the nearby doors for one that was already open. He found one a few doors lengths away, and slipped inside after the servant that was just entering. He spotted what he was looking for right away, and flew down the hidden passage before the girl could spot him.

The passage twisted a few times before light filtered in, and Diaval could hear the voices again; louder and much closer than they'd been before. He flew from the passage and into the room, immediately angling himself up towards the rafters to avoid being seen. The shouting below him covered the sounds of his landing, and he tucked his wings against his sides, peering down on the pacing forms.

"…not going to stand by and watch this happen!"

The Queen was the one doing the shouting, he realized with a start, her face twisted with pain even though her words were angry. Stefan paced restlessly, trembling as he clutched something close to his chest. Diaval couldn't see what it was from where he perched, but he held it with such fierce tenderness that he could only assume it was something important. Stefan spun sharply at his wife's words, and though his eyes were hard, his gentle grip on the thing in his arms never wavered.

"But what you're asking me to do…it's unimaginable," his words shook almost as much as his body, and Diaval couldn't tell if it was from anger or sorrow.

"It's the only way," the Queen insisted. "Please, you have to see that."

"I don't see it!" Stefan shot back, and as his voice rose, the thing in his arms squirmed, letting out a soft cry. He sighed, but adjusted his grip and murmured softly, and Diaval realized it was Aurora. Her eyes were wide as she stared up at her father, her hands clenching and unclenching as though she was trying to grab him.

"I don't see it," he repeated, quietly, rocking gently to try and calm Aurora's cries. "How could you ask such a thing? Your own daughter…."

"I am not going to stand by and watch her die for your mistakes." The Queen's voice was cold, her eyes even more so despite the tears staining her face.

Stefan flinched, as though he'd been struck, and Diaval drew a sharp breath. This was about the curse. Of course it was; he didn't know why he hadn't picked up on it sooner.

"I'm sorry," the Queen whispered, as though realizing her words had struck hard. "I'm sorry…I just can't…lose her."

"She's not lost yet," Stefan murmured, stepping across the room and drawing her carefully into his arms, Aurora cradled between them both. "She's only lost if we let her be."

The Queen placed a trembling hand against Aurora's cheek, her tears beginning anew as she allowed Stefan to place the child in her arms; and he moved even closer to wrap his own arms around both of them.

"I'm sorry," he cried, his brow bent to rest against his wife's. "I'm sorry I couldn't protect you."

Diaval ruffled his feathers on his perch, feeling even more unwelcome and guilty than before. He wasn't going to sit here and spy on their grief; he wasn't so low as to take pleasure in their sorrow. He glanced down at the broken family below him, his eyes stinging from tears despite his current form.

 _"_ _I'm sorry, Stefan,"_ he whispered, then flew from the room as fast as his wings could carry him.

The castle walls seemed stifling as he retreated further down the halls, every suit of armor and heavy curtain serving only to add to his turmoil. Even the clear skies and warmth of the afternoon sun did little to rouse him. He flew unsteadily; each wing beat a harsh, unbalanced jolt. He finally made it over the thorn wall, and for once he was grateful for the sudden darkness; allowing it to cover him and hide him away from everything. The darkness was his ally now, keeping the world from seeing what a terrible being he was.

He found Maleficent right where he'd left her: walking along the boundary. She didn't even glance at him as she changed him, ignoring him even when he moved to walk beside her. But for once, he didn't mind being ignored. The scene he'd witnessed at the castle still played in his head, and the guilt and sorrow he felt was so powerful it was almost a physical ache in the pit of his stomach. He glanced over to gauge Maleficent's emotions, but it was still that calm indifference she'd been maintaining since the curse. As though sensing that his thoughts were on her, she paused, glancing at him with a curious lift of her brow.

"Well?" She asked, resuming her pace, and Diaval slowed to a stop.

He couldn't take it anymore; these feelings. Things had been simple as a bird, but he was no longer a bird, and the deeds he was responsible for would not go unpunished. He was more than willing to pay for his part, but he wasn't going to sit idly this time. His feelings demanded to be heard; the cries of grief still ringing in his ears, and he drew himself up sharply, staring hard at Maleficent's back.

"I hope you're happy," he said, his voice low and harsh.

Maleficent stopped, turning back in surprise. "Excuse me?"

He was very aware how his tone sounded, but he made no efforts to rectify it as he continued.

"Did you know the whole castle is decorated in black? Everyone is acting as though the princess is already dead. Even the King and Queen." He took a step toward her, his voice hardening even further as a stone began to build in his throat.

"Diaval."

"Did you know the Queen won't even hold her, that she hasn't held her ever since your curse? Her own daughter! She can't even bring herself to look at her because she'll only be watching her die."

Maleficent's own eyes had hardened as he spoke, and she finally raised her hand in a signal to stop. "Enough, Diaval." Her voice was sharp, but for once he didn't care.

"It's what you wanted though, isn't it? " He asked. "To break them? Well, congratulations. You've won."

"Enough!"

There was a sharp sound, almost like a crack, and Diaval fell silent. He stared at her poised hand, alight with green magic, and a part of him fleetingly wondered if he'd maybe pushed too hard. But the part of him that was still so hurt and angry won out, arguing that it needed to be said. He raised his eyes to hers, seeing the same bitter anger reflected there, and he felt a sad smile pulling at his lips.

"Go ahead then," he said quietly. She faltered, surprise and horror flickering across her face; as though only just realizing how close she'd come to harming him. Then the anger returned, the fire lighting in her eyes as she glowered at him, her teeth bared somewhere between a grimace and a snarl.

"Leave," she bit out, and he inclined his head to her, the smile finally making its full way across his face.

"As you wish," he whispered hoarsely, then turned and walked away before she could change her mind about striking him.

He waited until he was safely in the tree line before breaking into a run, his breath coming in short gasps as tears threatened to overwhelm him. He couldn't breathe, but he didn't dare stop, pushing himself until he burst through a tangle of vines and into a clearing. He would have felt safe in the open space if he'd had his wings, but now it was too open, too exposed. He needed...he needed height. He needed a tree.

He turned back and scanned the nearby trees, blinking fiercely to keep the tears at bay. A tall, lean tree stood separate from the cluster of the forest, and he made his way towards it, mindful of the terrain and the possibility of prying eyes. He climbed up until he reached a shallow dip in the tree's center, and he curled up tightly in the branches, finally allowing himself to break down. He didn't know how it had come to this, but it had, and he couldn't help but feel that it was all his fault.

* * *

The stone broke apart with a violent **snap** , so thoroughly shattered that it was nothing more than mist as it scattered into the air. It still wasn't enough, and a whole section of wall was suddenly ripped at the seams, green cracks erupting through the surface. The wall wasn't intact for more than a few moments before it, too, became dust. It was still not nearly enough destruction to satisfy, too much pressure building up inside with no release. It would become a scream if something didn't happen soon, and she wasn't sure she was prepared to face it if she allowed herself to fall apart.

She was Maleficent; she couldn't afford to break.

But Diaval's words still stuck with her, and she couldn't define the emotions they brought out.

 _'I hope you're happy.'_

As though she would be anything but. Her curse had finally given her what she had been craving ever since she woke up to find her wings gone. Revenge. So why did she feel so hollow inside?

 _'It's what you wanted though, isn't it?'_

Diaval.

The beginnings of the scream began to force its way up her throat, and she clenched her jaw, lashing out again at the wall. To think she'd come so close to harming him...just the thought of it was...but she didn't know why it was so unbearable. She knew better, knew what came of trust and...love. She rebelled against the very thought, but to lose Diaval...

 _'Congratulations. You won.'_

The last section of wall finally gave way under the blows of her magic, and she watched as the tower fell, collapsing into itself and crumbling into dust. It still wasn't enough, and she finally let go, the scream tearing through her body and taking the remnants of her magic with it, bursting into the air with a sound like lightning. She collapsed as the tower had, her staff only just managing to keep her upright as she slumped to the ground. The dust hung heavy in the air, but it wasn't the dust that was choking her.

She had won, but at what cost?


	21. Stone

**Hi guys! Heh heh, so it's been a while...I can honestly say I had no idea what I was doing for a while; school, work issues, and a severe case of writer's block meant that this story was going no where fast.**

 **But I'm back, and I promise I won't go away like that again! I'm glad you're all still here (at least, I hope you are). Let's get to it then.**

 **To my reviewers:**

 **Siepie: I'm happy you're enjoying this story so much! Yes, I definitely agree with you there, which is why I was trying to develop it slowly, and try and get into what would make them decide to give their child up like that. So I'm glad you're liking that aspect. We'll get a little more of it ahead.**

 **Bookwyrm: Thank you for the review! I liked that part too. ;)**

 **WyldClaw: Thanks for the review, I'm glad you think my story is awesome, and I hope you keep reading!**

 **AirHawk19: Thank you for the kind words! And I'm glad you caught the references; I really thought they worked well here, too, and that was exactly what I was going for. Nice to see you picked up on it. I'm glad you're loving this story and I hope you will continue to read and enjoy!**

 **Loz!: I'm so happy to hear from you again! I was wondering where you had disappeared to, was sad when I didn't see your reviews; but I suppose I can't complain about hiatus' now, can I? ;) But I'm glad we're both back, and that you also caught the references. Yes, it is strange, and I can't blame you for not really getting into Stefan; he is quiet evil. But he is also human, so I really tried to dig into that...for all of them, really. There will be a lot more tension coming up so don't you worry! But that's all I'll say, you'll have to read it for yourself. :)**

 **And also, a huge shoutout and thank you to my beta reader Joan McCreedy! You have her to thank for this chapter, and for the timing of it. I probably would have stayed in a writing slump for a bit longer but she helped get my act together and get this out to you guys. So thank you Joan! I couldn't have done it without you!**

 **No warnings apply to this chapter, though it is a bit shorter than my usual. I should have the next chapter up in a couple weeks, though, so don't worry. In the mean time, I hope you guys enjoy, and don't forget to review!**

 **Thanks,**

 **\- Raven**

* * *

Diaval wasn't sure how long he had stayed in the tree, but he was aware of his name being called, and he jerked upright with a start. The sun was shining brightly, and the sight of it startled him, as he wondered just where he was.

 _"Diaval?"_

He remembered what made him wake up in the first place, and he looked around to see Balthazar and Ronin staring at him from the forest edge.

 _"What are you doing here?"_ Balthazar asked, stepping forward slowly.

"I…I just needed to get away for a bit," he said, brushing the hair out of his eyes.

 _"Well you picked a fine time to do that,"_ Ronin grumbled, and Diaval straightened on his branch.

"What do you mean?"

Balthazar cast a glare at his brother, his expression apologetic as he turned back to Diaval, who sighed, slumping slightly and dropping his gaze to the ground.

"You mean Maleficent, don't you?" he asked.

 _"She's destroyed one of the ruins,"_ Ronin answered. _"They were ruined anyway, but uh, the Moor folk have decided to stay underground today. Just to be safe."_

Diaval sighed again, a heaviness settling in his gut. Balthazar shifted just a bit closer, and Diaval brought his head up to meet his eyes when he spoke.

 _"Do you know what could have brought this on?"_ The Guardian pressed gently, and Diaval averted his gaze once more.

"I may have…said some things," he admitted, and Balthazar stiffened. Diaval told them about his latest trip to the castle, the grief and pain he's witnessed, and his argument with Maleficent. Balthazar was frowning by the time he'd finished, and Ronin too, looked unhappy.

 _"You shouldn't have mentioned any of that, Diaval,"_ Balthazar said, his tone heavy, and Diaval scrambled to his feet; a hand on the trunk beside him as anger surged through him once more.

"What would you have liked me to say, Balthazar?" he asked, his voice strained. "You've cursed an infant to her death, but it's alright, because it was revenge for something she had no part of."

 _"Diaval,"_ Balthazar rumbled disapprovingly.

"It's not, though," Diaval insisted. "I know it; I saw it. And I care for her, too, but I'm not going to say that what she's done is alright."

 _"I'm not saying that you should, either,"_ the Guardian said. _"I'm only saying you shouldn't leave her."_

"I could never leave her, Balthazar," Diaval said, a wry smile twisting his lips. "That's the point. The problem. I could never leave."

 _"Talk to her,"_ Balthazar said. _"Please."_

"I think I've said everything I can say," Diaval responded. "It's her decision to make, regardless of whether or not she'll listen to me."

Balthazar tried to convince him, but he was set. If she wanted to be stubborn, then who was he to stand in her way? He could be stubborn too. He ignored the part of him that questioned if he really wanted to be stubborn, and argued that she was the one who had started this, not him. The Guardians left him alone after that, and Diaval settled back into the tree.

It was certainly well into the afternoon, he thought, watching the clouds and squinting at the sun. He'd grown accustomed to the darkness of the Moors, but faced with the light of the sun, he was reminded once again why it was so wrong in the first place. He had done the right thing in speaking his mind to Maleficent, but then why did he feel the opposite?

He stood, clinging to the branches to maintain his balance, and began to descend from the tree. He turned once he'd reached the bottom, staring back into the forest and the Moors beyond. Across the hills and fields behind him, he knew the Village lay, and beyond even that, the castle. He also knew that he'd never make the journey in a reasonable amount of time; not without his wings. He felt itchy, naked and exposed, and he realized that this was the longest period of time he'd gone as a human. It felt even more wrong than arguing with Maleficent, and he stopped short as a thought struck him suddenly.

Was this how she felt?

He thought about being a bird, a true raven, and not the form changer he was now. He thought about flying; the joy and the freedom it brought. He tried to imagine what it would have been like, as a wild bird, to wake up one day and find that the thing that made him what he was, gone. He couldn't imagine it. But he knew that was what had happened.

Even standing here in human form, he couldn't imagine it. He could still become a bird, return to his true form and fly free once more. But Maleficent was always on the ground. He contemplated for the first time what it must be like to be stuck; to rely on someone else to do the one thing that you should be able to do. To know that the only reason you even had to rely on them was because a piece of yourself had been stolen.

Taken, lost, with no hope of getting it back.

And he realized, standing there, that she had been right, at least in one thing. There were worse things than death. Stefan had done more than just take her wings; he'd taken what made her Maleficent. To lose yourself, to lose who you are, that…that was the worst curse of all.

* * *

"…can see that it's an unreasonable request." The voice was saying. "Considering the circumstances, it just wouldn't be fair to expect it from them."

The voice was irritating, he thought. Couldn't they see he wanted to be alone?

 _'That's the price of a crown,'_ a new voice hissed darkly in his ear. _'Well, that and the life of your child.'_

"Enough!" he snapped, and both voices quieted.

Stefan sat at the head of the table, the rest of his council assembled around him. The torches that flickered on the walls threw shadows across their faces and gave them all the appearance of demons, but he wouldn't allow the windows to be opened. Better that he see them all for what they really were. Cyrus had been the one talking, and the voice whispered that of course he would be. Stefan ignored the voice, and focused on the council, who were staring at him in surprise and shock.

"I've heard more than enough of all of this," he said, and Cyrus' eyebrows lifted in surprise.

"Your Grace," he said quickly. "I understand the frustrations, but we must be sensible. We cannot afford to lose faith with the other kingdoms; and insisting on the betrothal with House Evander, given the circumstances, is…unfair."

"Unfair?" Stefan repeated, and the voices hissed angrily in response. "Of course, Cyrus. Of course it's unfair."

Cyrus paled, lowering himself slowly back to his chair while Stefan rose.

"To think that I'm trying to keep the kingdoms together, while my daughter dies!" He scoffed bitterly, and Cyrus winced. "Of course it's _unreasonable_."

"Forgive me, Your Grace," Cyrus stammered, lowering his gaze. "I did not mean to suggest…"

"But you did suggest," Stefan snapped, and the man finally fell silent, much to his relief. "I don't want suggestions on marriages or treaties or even wars." He leveled his gaze at each of the council members in turn. "What I want is suggestions on how to stop this curse."

 _'Ah, but don't you remember? 'No power on earth…'"_ the voices dissolved in a giddy chuckle, and Stefan only barely managed to keep his emotion from spilling onto his face. He cleared his throat in a futile attempt to drown the laughter, and straightened at the head of the table.

"If that is all?" he asked stiffly, and the council men nodded, frozen in their seats.

He nodded once before turning from the table, retreating from the room before the voices could overwhelm him. He grit his jaw and made his way down the halls, moving by instinct as the laughter twisted and became a low hiss.

 _'He's right, you know,' they said. 'It is unfair to make them pay for what you've done.'_

"You've done this!" he growled. "You and your curse! You…." He faltered at the sound of a soft cry, and he realized with a panicked start where he was.

He rushed through the door to find that Leila was already there, whispering to Aurora as she reached out to pick up the child. His wife only just glanced up at him as he entered, but quickly returned her gaze to Aurora, rocking her carefully in her arms. Stefan closed the door quietly behind him, shuffling in and sighing as the voices finally retreated.

"Is she alright?" he asked, and Leila pursed her lips.

"She's fine, now."

He nodded, unsure what to say or how to breach the gap that had risen between them. Ever since that night when Leila finally held her, she couldn't seem to let Aurora go. Especially not if she was letting her go to him.

"Have you spoken with them yet?" Leila asked, and he froze, his stomach clenching.

"No, not yet," he finally managed, and she frowned sharply, but her eyes were pained as she looked up at him.

"You said you would."

"This isn't something that we can just decide," he said.

 _'Funny, you didn't seem to have any trouble deciding when you took me.'_

He flinched against the voice, but Leila had turned back to Aurora and missed his sudden movement.

"We…there has to be another way," he tried again, wincing as his head began to pound again.

"There is no other way!" Leila cried. "You heard her! You heard what she said: No power on earth…."

The voice whispered the words with her and Stefan grit his jaw, trying to think past the onslaught of words. There had to be something, anything he could do.

"The fairies will take care of her," Leila continued, much more subdued, though Stefan could see the beginnings of a tremble take over her body. "I trust them."

 _'I trusted them, too.'_

"Just give me more time," he pleaded. "I will find a way…"

 _'This curse shall last until the end of time…she will prick her finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel…no power on earth can change it!'_

"The spinning wheel."

He froze, and Leila noticed the change, sitting up and staring at him warily. "What is it, Stefan?"

"The spinning wheel," he repeated, turning on her. "There is a way. There is a way!"

He laughed then, relief churning so strongly through his gut he was almost dizzy. He straightened, turning and striding from the room before Leila could try and dissuade him. She thought she was clever; she thought she had won, but now he had the upper hand on the curse, and he wasn't about to lose again.

* * *

Diaval was wrong. He was wrong to say what he had said. Wrong and out of line…out of place. She hadn't wanted to break Stefan. She had wanted to take from him what he had taken from her; it was just a pleasant side effect that he had broken, as well. But then what did that make her? Was she broken, too?

Maleficent sneered, the very idea preposterous, even in her thoughts. The sky was cracking above her, shadows splitting and sharp bolts of magic lashing out wildly from the air and from her. She turned sharply, surveying the Moors from the height of the Cliffs. There had been a time when she would have flung herself from the very edge without fear, without restraint, reveling in her wings which would catch her and propel her through the clouds. There would be nothing to catch her if she threw herself off now.

He had taken that from her. He'd taken her freedom, her life, her power. Her trust. And what had she taken? His child. His legacy. But he was still free. He was still alive, and he was still a king, with a kingdom far greater….

No.

Her lips curled and another crack of magic broke through the air. No, his kingdom was nothing compared to hers. He was nothing. He was broken. Because of her. Because of himself!

She growled, and the skies took up the refrain, rumbling her displeasure for all to hear. The clouds rolled and tossed, reflecting the turmoil as she fought with herself. He had been the one who caused this. He had stolen _everything_ from her, and she…she was no better.

She wasn't trying to be better!

The air sizzled with light, the flare of magic and thunder so intense it seemed to roar with a sudden heat. Green flames splashed across the ground with crushing force, shattering the stones it came in contact with and leaving deep cracks in the earth beneath.

Diaval had thought she was.

The flames died just as suddenly as they had come at the realization. Diaval had thought she had been trying for something more, and for just a moment, she had let herself get caught up with his ideas. With the relief and comfort that his presence brought. More than that, she had nearly let herself get caught up with him, and that loss of control, of her anger and her revenge, had been strangely freeing. He had reached a part of she had thought didn't exist anymore, and…it was terrifying.

But it was too late for regret. There was no going back now, and it was far past that time, regardless of any doubts or even feelings. She knew better. Knew what came of it. The storm died, though the clouds remained as she stood, returning those very feelings to the dark corner they had come from. She wouldn't let herself get caught up again.


	22. Divide

**H-hey guys! It's been an unbearably long amount of time, hasn't it? I'm so incredibly sorry for that! Really, I have no excuses. I mean, I could try and make some about college and work and relatives dying, but seriously, I should not have let this go for as long as I have!**

 **But I'm back now, and I swear I won't let a hiatus like that happen again! Hopefully this longer chapter will make it up to you. Things finally are beginning to escalate now-well. More than they already have, and I hope I did a good job of leading into all that for you, as well as giving you the confrontation you had all been anticipating.**

 *****This chapter does get a bit dark, and I just want to post a quick TRIGGER WARNING here for a panic attack! I did my best to handle it just as tastefully and carefully as the first one, but it is still there so be warned if you are sensitive to panic attacks. Feel free to skip where I've put the markers in place if you want to avoid it.*****

 **This Author's Note is already long enough so I'm just going to let you all jump into it and I'll respond to reviews at the bottom. Thanks for all your continued support and again, I'm really sorry for the delay!**

 **Hope you all enjoy!**

 **\- Raven**

* * *

There was this strange space between them now, and Diaval wasn't entirely sure how to breach the gap. He had reentered the Moors, at Ronin and Balthazar's insistence, but he had barely even seen Maleficent, let alone spoken to her. He hadn't dared, after the scathing look she had given him when he'd first reappeared. It was all ice and fire, loathing and grief and bitterness, and something…. He had thought it was hatred, at first, but it felt deeper than that, somehow.

The exact sentiment didn't matter, he supposed. All that did matter was that they weren't speaking. Not speaking meant he still didn't have his wings back, and forced to continue on in his human form. He grimaced, shaking his head and trying to shove those thoughts aside. He knew he shouldn't have to feel guilt over his form, but how was he supposed to feel otherwise? What right did he have to fly free as a raven, while she was stuck on the ground? Moreover, to even _ask...?_ He shuddered to think.

But thinking was all he really did, lately. Think. And run. Always running. Whether it was running away or towards, he didn't really know. But he'd gotten good at that, too, over the weeks of silence. He had tried looking for Maleficent once, but it was clear that the absence was intentional, and she had no intentions of being found, least of all by him.

So he ran. To the Village. To the forest beyond the Moors. He'd even made it as far as the castle gates once, and he'd wedged himself into an alcove he'd found just inside the main portcullis and watched as the remaining visitors from the other kingdoms left for their own lands. Judging from the banners, it was the very kingdom that had pledged their allegiance to Stefan's, through the marriage with Aurora. It seemed that not even they were eager to stay, after all that had happened; though Diaval was surprised they had remained as long as they had.

Strange to admit, but it was almost boring, by himself in the Moors. He wasn't alone, but none of the other residents would show themselves to him, and he had all but given up on trying to break through Maleficent's newly constructed walls. Let her be stubborn, if she wanted. Let her turn to stone.

 _"Diaval?"_

He started, looking up to find that his feet had taken him back to the boundary. Balthazar stood guard by one of the towering stone statues, the monument only a foot taller than the Guardian. He sighed slightly, then shuffled over, leaning against the weathered rock and peering out over the darkening fields.

"Where's Ronin?" he asked, if only to keep the silence at bay.

 _"With Maleficent. As you should be."_

The reproach in the Guardian's voice wasn't missed by Diaval, though he couldn't deny that he was right, in a way.

"You know I can't, Balthazar."

 _"Can't, or won't?"_

He ignored the jibe, gritting his teeth against a curse before continuing. "Does Maleficent know Ronin is watching her?"

 _"I'm sure she does,"_ Balthazar replied with a grunt. _"But he shouldn't be the one watching."_

"I know. You've mentioned that before. Several times, actually."

 _"Well?"_

"What do you want me to say, Balthazar? She's made her choice. I'm just making mine."

 _"Are you sure this is the choice you want to make?"_

"What do you mean?"

 _"I mean, do you really want to leave things like this? Leave her like this?"_

He shifted his weight, crossing his arms as he kept his gaze strictly ahead. He wasn't about to admit that the Guardian's words affected him, that he'd almost raced to the nest, to the cliffs, to the ruins, her name on the edge of his tongue. That he'd forced himself to turn back before reaching his destination, feeling a little more like he was dying each time.

 _"I know it's hard, Diaval, but you have to try. She needs you."_

The scoff was out before he could really contain it; the pained, bitter sound echoing in the darkness around them. "She doesn't need me. She never…."

 _"You know that's not true."_

Diaval said nothing, but he felt the pang of regret regardless. He hadn't truly meant the words, but with the way things were now, well.

"What am I supposed to do, Balthazar? How can I even….?"

 _"You'll have to think of something. Sooner, rather than later."_

Something in the Guardian's tone made him start, and he straightened, turning and peering up sharply through the darkness.

"Why? What's happened?"

 _"Nothing. Yet. But the clouds…"_

Diaval leaned back, nodding slightly. The clouds. Yes, he'd noticed them. It was hard not to, their presence a new constant amidst the usual gloom of the Moors. It was part of what had driven him to try and find Maleficent again, but he'd held back.

 _"And,"_ Balthazar continued carefully. _"Ronin has noticed that she's been screaming again in her sleep. When_ _she sleeps."_

"Are you trying to make me feel guilty?" he asked, the irritation in his tone doing nothing to mask the sudden painful clenching in his stomach.

 _"Trying to make you understand,"_ the Guardian rumbled with a frown, slipping back into the tree line and effectively ending the conversation.

But it was far from over, in Diaval's mind. The Guardian's words still echoed in his head, his own inner voices adding to it and creating an overwhelming background noise to the hammering of his heart. He didn't want to go back. He _couldn't_ go back. She wouldn't want to see him. She had every right to hate him, to turn him into a slug, or else banish him forever. He wouldn't have blamed her in the slightest.

But…he glanced back up at the skies above the Moors; the churning black clouds that occasionally split with an ominous green lightning. She needed him. And he needed her. Neither would ever dare admit such a thing, but Diaval knew, and was sure she knew as well. With everything that had happened, leaving her alone now was the last thing he should have done. But how was he even supposed to fix it?

* * *

This would do it, Stefan thought, a manic sort of glee filling him as he watched the dark pile beneath him grow. Leila might not have agreed, but this would work. It had to. There were no other options- at least, none that were worth entertaining. He raised a hand to motion to the guards below, and the courtyard was suddenly awash in flame, the air filling with the roar of the fire, and the sharp cracking of wood as the heat found its way into each and every crevice, tearing it apart and breaking it down in turns.

He smiled, nodding in approval before turning and making his way back into the castle. It was done, then. His men would continue to add to the pile throughout the night, raiding and collecting every single spindle and wheel throughout the village. They would all burn. He had even gone so far as to make it a crime from this day one to own or sell a spinning wheel, or anything even remotely resembling the tool.

 _'That won't change anything,'_ a voice whispered menacingly in his ear. _'No power on earth...can change it.'_

He ignored it, continuing on down the halls, a feeling of freedom and confidence in his stride that he hadn't felt since…since he'd first been crowned. He faltered just outside the throne room, his thoughts turning uncomfortably to his coronation, and just how he'd secured his position in the first place.

The sound of hushed voices drew his attention away from the dark turn of his thoughts, and he frowned in confusion, pushing open the doors to the throne room. The voices stopped as he entered, and he felt his frown deepen, his brows furrowing as he took in the three small forms hovering anxiously in the middle of the chamber.

"Your Grace," one of them, he wasn't entirely sure which, said, bowing in mid-air. The other two followed the first's example; inclining their heads and sweeping their flowery dressed in an aerial curtsy.

"What are you doing here?" he found himself asking, the sight of the three fairies unsettling and, dare he say it, terrifying, considering the circumstances.

"Um, Her Majesty, the Queen," the blue one whispered nervously. "She sent us. She said, uh…" she trailed off at the look on his face, glancing to the pink one for guidance.

The pink fairy flew forward, wringing her hands but otherwise appearing moderately confident. "She said you wished to speak with us about Aurora. And, well…and the curse."

Stefan froze, a cold feeling settling in and cementing his to the floor. The curse? Aurora? There was nothing to speak about. He had already said…and the spinning wheels! They were all burning, even as he stood here. There was no need for any of this. And yet, Leila had sent the fairies anyway. Despite his protests, and despite his refusals. She had sent them. The cold feeling turned to anger, and it must have shown on his face because all three fairies retreated as he stepped further into the room.

"She did, did she?" His voice echoed with the booming close of the doors behind him, and the fairy nearest him, the small green one, flinched. "And, did Her Majesty say anything else?"

The green fairy whimpered, flitting behind the blue fairy. The pink one sighed at her behavior, though she, too, looked slightly unsure as she approached him carefully.

"Please, Your Grace," she said, bowing again as though that would soften the blow. "I know it must be a difficult thing to process, but you must see-"

"You know?" he interrupted, scoffing harshly and causing the others to flinch again. "You know nothing of what it's like! This…this _curse._ " He spat the word as though it were poison. "You can't understand that feeling…of seeing your child each day and knowing that they will be taken from you. That you've lost them, because of the actions of another. You couldn't possibly-"

"We do, actually." It came from the blue one, and there was something heavy, and almost dark in her tone that made him pause. She smiled, but it didn't last long enough to reach her eyes. "It might have been a while, but we haven't forgotten the scrawny human boy we found that day at the borders."

Stefan froze, then, caught off guard. He hadn't even…Maleficent had told him, long ago, how she had been raised by the fairies, but he'd never even considered… His silence must have spoken volumes, because the pink one- Knotgrass, he suddenly remembered-sighed again, and continued in a much more subdued tone.

"We do understand, Stefan," she said quietly, dropping the formality. He could almost imagine they had gone back in time, and that he was once again just a boy being lectured in the ways of the Moors. "But know that we would do everything in our power to keep Aurora safe."

"And she will always be yours," the blue-Flittle, he remembered the butterflies-said. "We would never presume…"

"We would take care of her," the small, green one vowed solemnly. Thistlewit. Like the dandelion she so resembled.

"Maleficent-" he hedged, still not willing to relent so easily. She was his daughter, his only heir. If something happened…

"She would never know," Knotgrass assured quickly. "There's a cottage, a small one, in the woods. It's outside of the Moors; hidden. She would never have reason to leave, never be a reason to suspect."

"I-I need-time," he tried, but they nodded, to his relief and surprise.

"Of course," Flittle said. "Of course you do."

They turned, almost as one, and started to exit the room, but a sudden thought seized him, and he found himself crying out.

"Wait!"

They stopped, turning slowly to face him. He faltered, then asked: "Why?"

"Why?" Flittle repeated warily. "Why, what?"

"Why are you doing this? Helping me?"

There was a pause, as all three fairies shared a look. Knotgrass was the one who responded, a slightly stern expression on her face.

"Because it's our nature. We're helping Aurora because she needs it. And it isn't right that she should suffer for things that aren't her fault."

The message was clear: they were doing it for Aurora, not for him. He nodded stiffly, understanding their unspoken words, and they left quickly and quietly, barely whispering as they exited the room. He let out a heavy breath, then drew it in again sharply, trying and failing to control his emotions.

He was losing; his first love, his daughter. He straightened, staring out the window and to the courtyard, where the last of the wheels were smoldering. He was even losing this fight. His eyes lifted, to stare at the world beyond his walls, and the Moors beyond. He may fall, but he would make damn sure that she went with him.

* * *

Running seemed to be the only thing he was capable of, yet even then, Diaval couldn't make himself go fast enough. The edge of the Moors was visible before him, the thorn wall just as imposing as it had always been, but the distance was eluding him, somehow. He pushed on, gasping another harsh breath as he ran. He was wrong. He had been right, but he was wrong, and he needed…he didn't know what he needed.

The sky above him seemed to pause as he raced through the forest, every cloud swelling and rippling with each passing branch. He ducked and dodged, reentering the Moors by the pools, their surfaces dark and reflecting only shadows. He didn't know if he was running away or running towards, but he did know that the clouds roiling above him were nothing in comparison the ones he'd just seen. The sight of it still burned behind his eyes, and he pushed himself even faster, breaking through the smaller forest that separated the pools, pulling up short as he spied a familiar tree.

"Balthazar!"

The tree shifted, growing and splitting to form the older of the twin Guardians. _"Diaval?"_

"Balthazar," the man gasped, doubling over in a vain attempt to catch his breath. "Where is she?"

The Guardian straightened, and Diaval could practically see the surprise fill the barked and weathered face. _"Maleficent?"_

"Where…," he began again, drawing a quick breath before continuing. "Where can I find her?"

 _"Follow the storm,"_ the Guardian advised, lowly, and Diaval straightened, following the gesturing finger to stare at the thick clouds. They rolled across the sky at a terrifying pace for a storm, and if he looked hard enough, they seemed to grow thicker and darker at a certain point, splitting with green as they swirled above.

He almost didn't want to, didn't want to know what he'd find if he entered the heart of the storm, but the scene from the village still burned in the back of his mind. He thanked the Guardian, preparing to start off again, but Balthazar's next word stopped him.

 _"Diaval, I don't know if she…,"_ he faltered, sighing, then finished. _"Just, be careful."_

"Thank you, Balthazar," Diaval said, sincerely. "I know I haven't been…here, for her and…"

 _"You're here now,"_ the Guardian intoned. _"That is all that matters."_

Diaval nodded once, then turned, heading into the storm. He only hoped that Maleficent would feel the same.

* * *

There wasn't much left of the ruins, whatever structure they may have been long since crumbled into dust beneath her blows. But there was enough of a wall left for her to sit and lean against. The shadows were thicker, here, due to the clouds, and her dark robes allowed her to almost seamlessly blend in with them; becoming like a living shadow herself.

But she wasn't hiding, despite how it might appear. Maleficent didn't hide, not like…him. She straightened against the wall, gripping her staff tightly as the shadows split before her, a familiar figure entering the room.

"What, you're not happy to see me?"

She grit her jaw, more an involuntary reaction than anything else, though it did help to convey her feelings; far better than the changing colors of her staff could.

"I said I'd be back," he continued, taking another step forward.

"I don't want you to be _back,_ " she hissed, and he faltered, his face falling. "You were never supposed to have left." She swallowed, feeling something sharp prickling at the back of her eyes. "You were supposed to _stay_."

He was silent, shuffling his feet in that odd little dance he did when he was nervous. "Do-do you want me to leave, then?"

"No," she surprised herself by saying.

Surprised him, if the sudden lift of his brows were any indication. She didn't remember standing, but somehow she was. She was almost as tall as he was now, and didn't have to look up as far to glare at him. It also meant he didn't have to bend down as far to press his lips to hers, though she broke it off before it progressed further, turning sharply and letting her wings slap against his face.

"Maleficent!"

She felt her lips twitching into a smile as she heard him splutter behind her, and she had to stifle her laugh before it could become audible.

"Maleficent," he tried again, a pleading note to his voice, and she worked to rearrange her features into a stern frown, her wings tightening against her back and completing the illusion of anger.

"I'm sorry."

He was sincere, and that was what really made her pause, as she tried to decide if her anger was sincere as well.

"Forgive me?" he asked, his curls shifting across his face and partially concealing his expression.

She pretended to consider, but really, she had forgiven him the moment he'd re-crossed the boundary. She smiled coyly, extending a hand instead, her wings unfolding and curling gently against her spine.

"I don't-" he started to say, but she rolled her eyes, grabbing his hand and letting her wings extend fully, giving a few experimental flaps before preparing to take off from the ground.

"W-wait!" Stefan cried, leaning back and halting her progress. "Can you…I mean; are you even able to…?"

She did laugh then, throwing her head back defiantly in the face of his worry. She clutched his hand tightly, launching upwards in response, the wind stealing his scream and sending it back the way it had come. She could feel Stefan gripping her tighter, and that knowledge sent a small thrill through her; spurring her wings even faster, wanting to _fly!_ But she slowed, settling into an easy glide as they drifted over the Cliffs and down towards the pools.

"Maleficent."

Stefan's voice was low, and quiet beneath the hum of the wind, and she glanced down to see him staring straight ahead, beyond the boundary and to the world beyond.

"I really am sorry."

She shook her head, scoffing silently. "You don't need to keep apologizing, Stefan."

"Yes, I do."

"You're already forgiven."

He was silent, and his next words were almost lost with the rushing of her wings. "I keep hurting you."

"Stefan…."

"I didn't mean to! You know that, right? I wasn't trying to… I'm sorry."

There was something different about that last apology, and she frowned, the skies darkening suddenly as she glanced back down at him.

"Sorry? For what?"

It happened before she was fully aware of it, and so quickly she didn't even know what exactly had occurred. Only that she was falling, the clouds freezing and searing against her skin in turns as she crashed through them, a pain like nothing she had thought possible tearing through her body. She scrambled desperately, trying in vain to twist, to unfurl her wings…and then she realized with a sickening lurch that they were gone, and that the sticky cold she felt on her back now was her own blood.

There was a high, piercing sort of whistling ringing in her ears, and it took her a moment to realize that it was a scream. It took her even longer to realize it was her scream, and that the ground was approaching at an alarming rate.

 _Maleficent!_

Her eyes burned, tears blurring the darkness below her, but she thought she could see something on the bank of the pool.

 _Maleficent!_

Someone. It was a dim sort of recognition; the pain too much to allow for more than simple observations.

 _Please…_

She crashed, the solid weight of gravity slamming into her body and ripping another scream from her throat. Something grabbed her before she could fully orient herself with the ground, wrapping around her in a constricting hold, and she only dimly recognized the silver glint of a knife before the world flipped, and everything went dark.

* * *

The world was still turned upside down when she opened her eyes, and it took her a moment to realize that she was staring at the sky, and another moment still to realize that she was alone. There was no knife, no constricting arms around her. But she could still _feel_ them, the barren surroundings doing little to quell the churning panic. The crumbling stone wall was cold against her back, every muscle in her body drawn tight, and her jaw ached from holding back a scream. But even that must not have succeeded as well as she had hoped, if the raw feeling of her throat was any indication.

She tried to sit up, instantly regretting it as the muscles in her back began to seize, clenching forcefully and sending bolts of pain down her spine. She hissed a curse through gritted teeth, and tried not to think about the knife. She reached blindly for her staff, not so much out of a desire to move, as it was a need for the physical contact; something to ground her to reality. A reality, she realized as she noticed the dark mass above her, that was almost as chaotic as her dream. She growled another curse, and reached out with her magic, trying to refocus and dispel the excess energy of the clouds.

* * * * -WARNING!

But her magic wouldn't focus, couldn't see past the silver glint in her dreams, and she drew a sharp breath as her mind brought back the sensation of falling. Falling, and no wings, nothing there to catch her. She couldn't breathe, wasn't breathing, wasn't enough air! Of course there was air, of course she was breathing. She wouldn't be awake or functioning if she wasn't breathing. But that didn't change the fact that her chest was too tight, too tight and she couldn't...breathe!

A strangled noise broke through her desperate gasps. It might have been a scream, but it was muffled, like it had come from underwater. Water. Drowning. She was drowning, in the noise, in the pain, everything was too tight too much too much... And there was still not enough air, not enough of anything. She needed to breathe. Needed to focus. But focus...on...what?

Not dying.

 _Dying!_

No. No, she wasn't dying. She knew what this was, she knew...but she still couldn't breathe, and there was something wet on her face, salt on her tongue.

Tears.

Crying.

 _Weak_.

No.

 _Pathetic_.

No!

 _Worthless._

Please _..._

Drowning.

 _Please..._

Air.

There was air. There was air and it was coming easier now, the tightness in her chest fading slowly. There was a dull throbbing in her ears and she realized that the storm was still raging, thunder pounding in time with her heart. She drew a shaky breath, her eyes stinging as she tried to focus.

She needed to focus.

She needed...

Diaval _._

 _* * * * -_ ALL CLEAR

The thought was enough to give her pause, stemming the rising tide, if only for a moment. Diaval. She didn't _need_ him; she didn't want anything to do with him. Not after the way he'd treated her. Not after the way...he'd left. There was a part of her that felt regret, a knowledge that he had only left because of _her_ , but she shoved those thoughts aside, burying them as she once more attempted to stifle the storm. She may have driven him away, but he had been the one to stay away. Let him stay away, then. Let him wallow in his own self-righteous pity. Let him...

A low snap broke through her concentration, and she flinched in spite of herself, straightening sharply and lashing out in the direction of the noise. A choked cry of surprise rang out in response, and a very familiar figure stumbled out into what was left of the clearing, staring at her with wide, dark eyes.

 _Diaval._

The man was silent; the only sound that of his quick breaths, his eyes flickering over her form as though seeing her for the first time. Her own eyes narrowed into a fierce glare, and she couldn't deny the immense satisfaction she felt at seeing him pale beneath her gaze. But there was a part of her that didn't enjoy his fear, that loathed to see him cringe away from her like that. And there was something else, too, something she couldn't quite define. A sort of, ache. A want...to reach out.

She gripped her staff just a little tighter, burying the feeling and focusing on her anger instead. The orb on her staff sparked violently with green, and she let that fuel her words, breaking the heavy silence.

"So you've finally decided to return," she said darkly. Her voice sounded hoarse, even to her ears, but Diaval flinched regardless, ducking his head and refusing to meet her eyes. The anger lit with a vengeance; that after all this time he returns, and yet has the audacity to just _stand there._

"Is there anything you have to say for yourself?"

The clouds above thickened, rumbling loudly and echoing the venom in her words. Diaval's features twisted, though she couldn't make out his exact expression. His head shook imperceptibly, a tremor going through his body as his mouth opened and closed silently. She knew the words that he was trying to say, however, and she growled, though the sound was lost amidst the thunder.

"I never should have left."

His voice was so quiet she almost didn't hear, his words a quick succession preceded by a breathy sort of sob.

"What?" she snarled, the orb atop her staff flickering violently and sending bright sparks skittering across the stone.

"I-I never should have left you," he repeated, on his knees now, his eyes locked firmly on the ground. "I shouldn't…and I'm…I know I have no right to ask, but please…forgive me." He swallowed hard, drawing a shaky breath before continuing softly. "I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you."

 _I keep hurting you._

 _I'm sorry._

 _Forgive me._

 _"You're already forgiven."_

The words were on her tongue, but she couldn't bring herself to say them. Couldn't bring herself to even feel them because how could she? She had opened herself up too much, felt too much, that his absence had hurt. It was a betrayal she couldn't have foreseen, and yet...here he was.

She almost laughed, though the sudden constricting of her throat prevented any sort of sound from escaping. Her eyes stung, and when she drew a breath, it was much sharper than intended. She dimly registered Diaval's head lifting, saw his lips forming her name- and when _had_ he grown so bold?- but none of that mattered so much as the fact that he was apologizing! After all that she had done, how she had hurt him; he was the one asking, no, begging her for forgiveness.

It was almost more than she could bear; more than what she felt deserved, and yet, she couldn't bring herself to respond. There was still so much…feeling, inside her, and she knew the cost of such things. She couldn't admit to how he had hurt her, because to do so would mean acknowledging the one thing she was trying so very hard to ignore. And Diaval- he deserved more. More than her. More than anything that she wasn't able to provide.

She straightened, gripping her staff with a firm resolve, and she watched his eyes flicker, the emotion in them too strong to ignore, though she managed.

"Go," she said stiffly, burying it all and letting the cold wash over her once more. Diaval gaped a moment, as though he had somehow misunderstood her command. It gave her a chance to regain her anger, and she held onto it fiercely, letting it solidify her walls.

"Mal- Mistress?" he stammered, and she felt the briefest flicker of satisfaction that he had remembered his place. But it was overshadowed by a hollow sort of disappointment, and she fought her suddenly weakened resolve.

"Go, I said," she repeated, and there, there was the power she had been looking for. The clouds above rumbled an ominous growl, and Diaval faltered, but only for a moment.

"Mistress," he tried again, but it was cut short at a sharp motion of her hand, and his words dissolved into the familiar grating caw of a raven.

"Leave, Diaval," she growled out through gritted teeth, the storm above sparking with lightning and further emphasizing a warning.

The raven seemed to hesitate, hovering briefly over her head before cawing once: an almost mournful sound. And then it was gone, the soft rustle of wings the only indication that it had ever been present at all. It was only once she was certain he had gone that let her walls drop, the last of the stones around her crumbling as she did. The sky lit once with a green spark before dying just as suddenly, the full weight of the storm crashing down on her and swallowing her anguished cry. The clouds thickened, casting a suffocating darkness over the ruins of the Moors.

And it began to rain.

* * *

 **Well, there you go. Diaval is back in the Moors, and Maleficent is once more putting up walls. Stefan is still going crazy, though not for lack of trying, and the fairies are playing their hand. How will all culminate? I suppose you'll just have to keep reading! ;)**

 **To my reviews! (As I realize that I probably could have included them at the top. Ah well)**

 **Bookwyrm52: It's good to hear from you, too, and I am glad to be back! The conversation was pretty tense, wasn't it? The magical storm certainly helped! I hope you'll continue to enjoy and I can't wait to hear what you think!**

 **Loz! Wow it's great have you back, too! I have not abandoned this, nor will I ever! I am determined to see this through! And I'll say this, your comment about the storm helped inspire the chapter, in case you couldn't tell! ;)**

 **Ok, toning down the exclamation marks. Excitement aside, I'm glad you thought my last chapter was so well written. Hopefully this one was just as good. Yes, there are definitely some realizations, but as you'll see, Maleficent isn't really one for the whole 'feelings' thing, and so it will take her some time to accept them. Foreshadowing there.**

 **I hope you all enjoyed the chapter, and I'm looking forward to hearing what you all think! :)**

 **Thanks again!** **\- Raven**

 **P.P.S: Props to those who catch my title reference! I've also slipped a Hamilton reference in there, because I could.** **Anyone who figures them out gets a cookie of their preferred flavor.**


	23. Turn

**Aaand...I'm back! Sure took me long enough and I will make no excuses for my absence as I'm sure you really don't care and am just glad I'm updating. (Don't worry, I'm glad to be updating too!)**

 **To my reviews! (If you skip my reviews just make sure you stay for my notes as I have some warnings for you)**

 **Siepie: It's good to be back, even if it did take forever. I'm glad you're enjoying and you liked my portrayal of the fairies. I agree, they were a bit brainless and annoying in the movie, and while I'll be playing on that a little bit later on, I definitely don't think they're as clueless as they seem. And thank you, I'm glad you like the way I'm handling everything as it's one thing I worried about. :) I hope you'll continue to read and enjoy!**

 **ILoveGoodBooks777: Thank you for the review! Good job catching the reference. It may take me a while to find some more direwolves, but if I can find a warm enough coat I'll see what I can do! ;) And you kind of hit the nail on the head there with the wings, lol. I'm glad you enjoy this story so much and I hope you'll continue to follow along!**

 **Cat girl: Thank you for leaving a review! It is very emotional and will only get more so from here so hang on tight! I can't say too much without spoiling, but suffice to say, yes, Stefan is slowly going mad, and so the 'voices' are equal parts his insanity and...something else. I've hinted at it, but don't worry, answers will be coming soon! I hope you'll bear with me until then and continue to read and enjoy. :)**

 **Carmine DeVil: Thank you for the review! I'm glad you've enjoyed this so much and I hope you will continue to enjoy!**

* * *

 **Phew, ok Author's Notes!** **(Also forgive any mistakes, I typed out these notes on my phone so I could get this up for you, it's currently midnight where I am but no regrets!)**

 **Things are slowly starting to pick up in this chapter, and as I mentioned before, is definitely an emotional one!**

 ****Warnings for this chapter include one 'mild' panic/anxiety attack, and while it's not as detailed and heavy as my past few, it's still intense.****

 **But there's a little something for you guys at the end, and hopefully it'll have been worth the wait. ;)**

 **I look forward to hearing what you think! Thanks for your patience and support!**

 **-Raven**

* * *

"You wished to speak with me, Your Grace?"

The room was cold, though Stefan suspected it had more to do with his current position by the window than the actual temperature. He stared down at the courtyard, taking in the large black stain that filled almost the whole of the cobbled stones. In the dark, with the torches flickering, it almost looked suspiciously like blood, and he found himself imagining just what sort of figure that could be the cause of such a mess. One figure in particular...

"Your Grace?"

He started, pulled from his dark thoughts abruptly. He frowned, turning from the open window to meet his advisor head-on.

"Yes, Cyrus," he said slowly. "I did wish to speak with you."

The man spread his arms, an easy smile on his face that Stefan found himself envying. "I am at your disposal, Sire. How can I-"

"I didn't call you here for useless pleasantries," Stefan snapped, and if the man was in any way affected by his tone, he didn't show it. He simply fell silent, inclining his head and waiting for Stefan to speak.

"I called you here for this." Stefan motioned towards the small stack of papers resting on the edge of the table. The once smooth edges were now pinched where he had grabbed it, and the ink had smudged in places, but he had practically memorized the words.

Cyrus was significantly more careful in his handling of the papers, and he did a far better job than Stefan had at controlling his emotions as he read. Stefan started pacing when he reached the second page, and by the third, he was seething once more. Cyrus glanced briefly up at him, his brows lifting in what Stefan could only interpret as amusement. Then he took in the seal and signature at the bottom of the parchment, and his features fell flat in a solemn expression.

"Well," he drawled cautiously. "This is certainly…unprecedented."

"Unprecedented?" Stefan barked, slamming a hand down over the damning articles before him. "They might as well be at our gates!"

"They aren't at our gates yet, Your Grace," Cyrus said calmly, but Stefan didn't miss his wording.

Yet. Three kingdoms had sent letters; full of regrets, condolences, and sorrow, but all of them stating in no uncertain terms that they would not be allying themselves with his kingdom. Not when it was besieged with such creatures and curses.

"Bastards," Stefan muttered, and Cyrus made a clicking sound with his tongue.

"According to their letters," the man said slowly. "They feel deceived."

"Deceived!" Stefan repeated furiously, but his fury died when he saw the stern look his advisor was giving him.

"After all, you came into your crown on the promise that the very creature who cast this curse, was dead. Killed, by your own hands."

"What are you saying, Cyrus?" Stefan growled lowly.

"I believe it has already been said, Your Grace; by your former allies. It is not my place to judge, only to advise," the man added quickly. "And so, I advise we work to eradicate this threat for good. Show them that you can protect them, and they _will_ join with the throne."

"And I suppose you've already concocted a way to accomplish this," Stefan said warily. "A way to destroy that witch and her kingdom?"

"I merely have suggestions," Cyrus said, spreading his hands. "And, if you could succeed in killing the witch, taking over the Moors instead of destroying it…."

"Succeeding where Henry failed," Stefan finished, understanding what the man was getting at. "Uniting the kingdoms, showing the people that I can provide for them."

"Precisely. Where we begin with that, however, is entirely up to you, Your Grace."

Entirely up to him, indeed. Stefan shoved aside the letters and prepared to begin drawing up battle plans and maps, looking out window the stare at the Moors. The kingdom that would soon be his, guarded by the wall of thorns that glinted darkly in the sun.

The sun.

"Aurora," he whispered to the air.

"Your Grace?"

He turned to his advisor, ignoring the skeptical look in the man's face.

"We'll begin with Aurora," Stefan repeated. "Keeping her safe. She needs to be safe; away from all of this."

Away from the curse.

"Of course," Cyrus inclined his head in acknowledgement. "I will set about finding…."

"I've already settled that," Stefan interrupted.

"You have?" Cyrus straightened, and if there was something about the way his eyes narrowed, the tilt to his head; Stefan didn't acknowledge it.

"The fairies," Stefan murmured to himself, his eyes once more finding the shadow of the Moors in the distance. "They'll protect her; keep her away from here. And when it's all over, she'll return to a kingdom far greater than it was when she left."

For her sake, Stefan would succeed. There were no other options.

* * *

It was still raining. The whole of the Moors was a dark, cold mess, the rain soaking through everything and covering the ground with muddy holes. The creatures that lived underground were forced to evacuate and find other means of shelter; their burrows having been flooded within a few days of the storm's initial downpour. The Moor folk above ground fared little better; not even the trees provided shelter enough to shield them from the rain. Though that didn't stop one bird from trying. The raven perched high above the surrounding area, nestled as tightly as he could in a tree that shifted and moved as though it were alive.

 _"I take it things didn't go well,"_ the tree spoke to the bird. The raven shivered, his feathers fluffing out from his body in a vain attempt to rid himself of the rain soaking his body.

"I wouldn't be here in this form if it had gone any other way," the bird snapped back, his beak clicking sharply in agitation. "I tried, though, Balthazar. I really did."

 _"What did she say?"_

The raved crowed lowly, a sound that could be interpreted as a laugh, but was too bitter to be anything cheerful. "She told me to leave. She didn't need to say much else…I think my current form speaks enough as it is."

 _"She's stubborn, Diaval,"_ Balthazar intoned sadly. _"Stubborn and hurting."_

"The rain…," Diaval said, shuffling along the branch. "The storm…."

 _"Her magic is acting out in response to her emotions,"_ the Guardian surmised. _"Have you gone back at all?"_

"A week," the raven cawed miserably, not seeming to hear the question. "A whole week of this storm, surely by now…"

 _"Diaval,"_ Balthazar broke in firmly. _"Have you gone back to her?"_

"Every night," Diaval said, just as firmly, but he kept his dark eyes on the land before them. "I go every night. And it's always the same."

 _"Her magic?"_ Balthazar asked, worry and fear in his tone. _"The lightning in the clouds at night?"_

"No," Diaval said, shaking his avian head. "Not her magic…nightmares. She's been screaming again and…and it's just getting worse."

The Guardian makes a sharp rumbling sound low in his throat, and Diaval isn't sure if it's a gasp or a sob.

"I try...but there's nothing I can do; not in this form. I sit with her, try to wake her, but it never…I can't…." Diaval chokes on the rest of his words, shaking his head and blinking. No tears, at least, in this form. It was as much a blessing as it was a curse.

 _"There has to be something,"_ the Guardian said quietly, his own voice broken with pain. _"She can't go on like this."_

"You think I don't know that?" Diaval crowed, flapping his wings sharply and spraying water everywhere. "You think I don't ask myself what more I could possibly do…"

A sudden boom of thunder cut off his painful tirade, the rumbled echoing so deep he could feel it in his very core. Balthazar straightened beneath him, a low gasp slipping past the Guardian's lips.

 _"No."_

Instantly, the sky was lit up, a sickening **crack** filling the air as lightning followed the ominous boom, and Diaval cawed harshly, lifting up from the tree branch and flying into the stormy air. He could hear the Guardian calling something behind him, but it was drowned out by the dull roaring in his ears; not the storm, no; the pounding of his heart as he flew through the Moors, chasing the crackling lightning in the distance.

 _No,_ he pleaded silently as he flew. _No, no no._

The storm led him not to the nest, as he'd usually visited, but to the hidden cove of lakes just south of the Cliffs. Diaval felt his stomach lurch as he dove beneath the curtain of water guarding the place, and began scanning desperately for any sign of Maleficent's presence. The storm was an obvious indicator, but it did nothing to provide him with a specific location.

 _"Maleficent!"_ he crowed desperately as he flew, diving in between the twisting trees and scanning the surrounding caves.

The storm stole his cries, drowning them and replacing them with its own loud crying. He cursed furiously to himself, ducking into another cave only to find it empty as well. The thunder was fading, at least, but the lightning still flashed dangerously, cracking sharply as it split the sky above him.

 _"Maleficent!"_ he tried again, and this time his call was answered. Muffled, and half buried beneath the pounding rain, but there was no mistaking what he'd heard.

A scream.

He banked sharply and flew towards the sound, swooping low to enter a crevice in the side of a stone that was almost completely hidden by another cave. Inside, the roar of the storm was almost completely silenced, though Diaval still heard the rain as it beat against the outside of the cave. He landed atop a stone shelf and almost knocked over a small leather pouch sitting next to him. He shuffled the bag back into place and then scanned the cave, anxiously fluffing his feathers to free them from the rain.

He opened his mouth to call again, but another muffled scream rang out before he could, the sound chilling to hear. Diaval turned and saw a second stone shelf carved into the opposite wall; lower to the ground, and almost like a bed. And it was on this bed that Maleficent lay, her dark robes and horns barely visible in the shadows of the small space. She lay curled tightly on her side facing him, her back arched against the wall; everything about the tense positioning of her body screaming _pain._

Diaval crowed hoarsely, flying over to her and landing on the curve of her shoulder, pressing himself against the crook of her neck in a desperate attempt to rouse her. An attempt which turned out to be in vain, and more dangerous than anticipated. A shock went through his body, jolting him from his perch, and he flapped his wings hard to regain his balance as he hovered just above her.

A warning shock, he tried to remind himself as he caught his breath. Her magic, trying to protect her. But it did nothing to calm his fear as Maleficent's eyes suddenly flickered open, bright green and darting restlessly around the cave. Diaval cawed softly, landing on the bench by her hand, which clenched into a fist as she drew a sharp breath, a low noise of pain echoing in her throat.

Diaval chirped quietly, skipping a little closer to her, but he wasn't entirely certain she knew he was there. Her eyes squeezed shut again and her whole body tensed, her back arching painfully off the bench as another muted scream slipped past her lips. Diaval crowed sharply in alarm, and Maleficent's eyes flew open again, landing squarely on him. He straightened on the bench, anxious and wary, but her fingers twitched, her lips silently forming his name.

 _"Here,"_ he tried to convey with another chirp, shuffling closer to her. _"I'm right here."_

Maleficent's features twisted again in pain, but when her mouth opened, instead of a scream, she choked out a hoarse and whispered, "Into a man," before collapsing back onto the bench.

Instantly, Diaval felt the magic course through him, the familiar sharp tingling as his body shifted and changed, but there was something different about it this time. When he regained his feet as a man, he surged forward towards Maleficent, collapsing onto the bench beside her but stopping just short of taking her into his arms. There was still that line of servant and master; and though he toed it quite well, there was still that wall she'd put up between them, and he couldn't breach that without losing her completely. He didn't dare.

Maleficent's eyes opened again, focusing on him as he hovered just above her. He drew a breath, waiting anxiously for a negative reaction. But the look she gave him was intense despite the pain, a clear intention there even before she whispered his name. It was enough for him, and he shifted on the stone, carefully drawing her into his arms.

Despite his care, she still stiffened against him, pain etched into her face and echoing in her hoarse cry. Diaval wrapped his arms around her slowly, repositioning so he was sitting upright, his back against the stone wall and her own body cushioned against his own. He could feel the magic still tingling through him, and when Maleficent clutched at his own arms another shock went through him, freezing him where he sat.

He tried to draw a breath, and then realized with a surge of panic that he couldn't. He couldn't breathe, and his entire body seized painfully, pain grabbing him by the spine and squeezing _hard_. He gasped, in vain as the pain intensified, the smallest twitch of movement on his part bringing an electrifying jolt that sent excruciating spasms down his back.

A harsh, high pitched sort of whistle met his ears, and he thought dully that it might have been a scream, but whether it was his own voice or another's, he didn't know. But he did know that the pain was spreading, the spasms echoing painfully in his lower back, but radiation from just between his shoulder blades; each clenching of muscles there leading to an even sharper spasm in his lower back.

There wasn't enough air, and not enough control over his body to draw more than even the smallest gasp of breath. Each attempt only brought more pain, and his chest and throat burned from holding back his cries of pain. He was certain that this torture would continue indefinitely, but suddenly it eased, and with another harsh jolt, he was snapped back into his own awareness.

Maleficent sobbed breathlessly beneath him, her fingers clutching desperately at his arms with each painful clenching of muscle. Diaval blinked back his own tears, trying to shove aside every thought that didn't involve getting her through this. But how? He couldn't possibly hope to reach her through all of that. But…she needed him. In this moment, she needed him, and he refused to let his doubts get in the way. He wouldn't fail her. Not again.

Another soundless sob wracked her body, and Diaval felt the clenching of her muscles as her back arched once again. He grimaced, holding her just a little tighter, carefully lowering his head so his mouth was by her ear, his chin hovering just short of resting on her shoulder.

"I'm here," he whispered quietly. "I'm right here, Maleficent, it'll be alright."

There was no immediate change, but Diaval continued to talk anyway, slowly and calmly, tracing gentle circles along her side where his fingers could reach. It occurred to him as he murmured soothing nothings into her ear, that he was using her name again. It felt almost like cheating, given her current state and inability to respond to him, but at the same time, he felt like the use of her name brought him closer to her; that the line wasn't so firm and he could move freely on equal footing.

It was confusing, more so when combined with his other thoughts and feelings. What did he want? What sort of relationship was this now? The way Maleficent turned to him, allowed him to hold her; to remain so close like this…what did this mean? What did _she_ want this mean?

A sharp gasp cut through his thoughts, and he blinked, returning his attention to the moment at hand. She needed him here, now. He could (and would) worry about it all later. Maleficent stiffened in his arms, a stifled whimper of pain echoing in her throat as she clung to him, and Diaval wracked his brain for another solution, something else that could ground her and bring her out of the vicious cycle she was caught in.

A tune leapt to his mind as he watched the rain fall in the darkness beyond the cave; a slow lilting lullaby he had heard long ago in a neighboring village. He hummed softly as he recalled the words, then cleared his throat, lowering his head and resuming his trace of circles as he began to sing.

"When the night is still and the sea is calm, lonely shadow, you call upon me…lay by my side, fear not tonight, lonely shadow, you'll find a new light."

A tremor went through Maleficent's body, but it was softer, smoother than her body's previous movements. Diaval drew a slow breath, steadying himself and her before continuing.

"Hear the nightingale sing a lullaby, lonely shadow, you'll find a new light…dawn will be kind, all will be right, lonely shadow, rise from the darkness. Dream a dream and see through a place where we can fly away…ride with me upon a shooting star, above the moonlit sky we will find…Elysium."

* * *

The rain was nothing more than a dull echo by the time morning finally arrived, the cave having transitioned from near complete darkness to the foreboding grey that the Moors typically took on when daylight was allowed inside. Diaval blinked slowly, lifting his head from where it had fallen against the stone wall behind him. He began to stretch, then froze when he remembered his current position. Maleficent was still as she lay against him, completely relaxed in what Diaval hoped was -finally- sleep.

The night before had been the worst of any of his previous visits. He'd always gone to her, when the clouds thickened and lightning had burned through the sky, he had flown to be with her wherever she'd hidden herself away, perching on her shoulder as a raven and staying with her until the storm had passed. But last night…Diaval shivered as he thought of it, remembering the glimpse into the pain Maleficent had endured that he had felt when her magic had gone through him.

If he had known that it had been like this, he never would have left her, or else, he'd have come back sooner. There was a part of him that tried to reason that it didn't matter- that he was here now, but he also knew that it did matter; that by not being completely there for her, he had failed her somehow.

"I won't fail you again, Maleficent," he whispered. "I promise."

She stirred at the sound of his voice, and he drew a sharp breath that was echoed by another, drawn by Maleficent as she stiffened in his arms. Diaval froze, silently pleading that this wouldn't turn into a reprise of last night as her fingers clenched around his wrists, which were wrapped gingerly around her waist. Another sharp breath rang out into the air, a shudder going through Maleficent's body that didn't seem to stop, and Diaval recognized the warning signs, a small twinge of panic going through him at the thought of yet another waking nightmare.

"Mistress?" He whispered quietly, shifting his grip just enough that it would be less constricting.

There was the sound of a soft gasp, a sigh, maybe, and Maleficent relaxed, her fingers no longer threatening to imprint themselves on Diaval's arms.

"Diaval," she murmured quietly, almost to herself, and Diaval frowned, worrying that she'd mistaken him for someone else; and suspecting that he knew exactly who. But he forced himself to remain relaxed, his voice soft as he confirmed.

"Yes."

Instead of relaxing at this information, she stiffened once again, pulling away from him as much as her current position would allow. Diaval moved with her, worried. The sharp set of her jaw indicated anger, but everything else about her still said _pain_ , and he didn't want to let her go just yet.

"Diaval," she said again, and though her voice faltered over his name, there was still power in her tone, and Diaval reluctantly removed his arms from around her.

Instantly she moved, reaching for her staff and lifting herself to her feet. Diaval straightened even further on the bench, but he didn't need to pursue her further as she almost immediately stumbled back, steadying herself against the cave wall. He began to reach out, his lips forming her name, but she stiffened as though sensing his intentions, her hand lifting in a sharp gesture.

"Don't."

The word was a sharp snarl on her lips, her teeth bared in what would have been a fierce expression if Diaval couldn't still see the fear and pain in her eyes.

"Mistress," Diaval tried, but she shook her head, her staff swirling sharply with black and green.

"Don't, Diaval," she warned again, but it wasn't quite as firm as it could have been. Diaval stood slowly, and she tensed, but he stayed by the bench, reaching with his words instead of his hands.

"You don't have to do this, you know," he said quietly.

"Do what?" she asked, and he was certain that the only reason she sounded as genuine as she did was because he'd caught her off guard.

"This...," he replied slowly, thinking on how to describe it right. "Pushing that you're doing. I know, and I'm not going anywhere…there's nothing you need to hide from me."

Something went up in her eyes at his words, but he couldn't tell if it was another wall, or an emotion. He suspected it might have been a bit of both, judging by the sharp spikes of blue and red that had temporarily cut through the black of her staff.

"You don't know everything, Diaval," Maleficent intoned fiercely. "And you have no right to suggest that I owe you anything more."

"I know," he agreed carefully, shaking his head. "That's not what I meant. And…and you're doing it again."

"Enough," Maleficent snapped, green lighting in her eyes and sparking in the air as she turned on him. "You've forgotten your place."

"You can't keep doing this," he said, a pleading note in his voice. "You can't rely on me one moment, and turn on me the next."

"I don't need to justify myself to you," she retorted coldly.

The way she said it turned her words into an insult, but Diaval wasn't intimidated by it this time. He'd seen too much of her to fear her in that way again. But she was afraid, no matter what she said, and he knew it was just that fact; that he _had_ seen her, was what terrified her.

"I'm not him," he said softly. "I'm not going anywhere, and I would never...what I mean is, you don't have to hide from me."

"I am _not_ hiding, Diaval," Maleficent growled, equally soft as she began to pace. "And I am not afraid."

'Of you,' seemed to go unspoken, but Diaval understood. And though he wanted to make her see; to make her understand him, as well, he also understood that he was treading a very fine line. He didn't want to push further than he already had.

"I'll go," Diaval finally answered quietly. "If that's what you want…but I won't leave."

He wanted to say so much more, but he felt like he'd already said too much. Diaval inclined his head instead, a stiff bow that felt almost mocking in light of everything that had just occurred. He shoved his feelings aside; since it was beginning to grow apparent that such things were not wanted or needed of him, and turned to make his exit from the cave.

"Why did you?"

Her question came suddenly, and to his back, so he didn't see the expression on her face. He turned back slowly, but she wasn't looking at him; her body half hidden in the shadows so he could barely see her at all.

"Leave," she clarified stiffly at his silence.

"I was afraid," Diaval answered honestly, stepping further into the cave.

Maleficent made a low noise that Diaval couldn't quite interpret, but that reminded him of a suppressed sigh of pain. He knew that she thought that he had been afraid of her, and while it was only partially true, he couldn't dissuade her idea without re-crossing that newly erected wall.

"And why did you come back?" she demanded in an undertone.

"I was afraid," Diaval said again, steeling himself as he approached her. "Because I realized that…I…"

He hesitated, his brow furrowing as he tried to find the right words to describe what he felt. He feels a slight pang of regret; birds never had this sort of problem. But he tries anyway, hesitating again before pushing on.

"I…care about what happens to you," he said slowly, a part of him hating the words because they just didn't seem to _fit_ right. "And, I was afraid, because I knew I should be there for you, and I wasn't. I came back because it was right…because I needed to be with you. Because I…"

"No."

Diaval faltered, caught off guard by the whispered word. Maleficent stiffened when he met her eyes, sucking in a sharp breath that didn't quite seem to end as it echoed about the cave. Diaval opened his mouth, about to question the sudden change in her demeanor, but something flickered in her expression, and he hesitated. It had only been there for a second, but it was there nonetheless, and Diaval didn't need to see the changing colors of her staff to recognize the flicker for what it was.

Fear.

And he hated that he was the cause of it. It wasn't fear of him- he knew that, but it still hurt to see. It was the situation itself, the fact that he'd caught her so vulnerable; that she needed him in the first place. That…he needed her. Diaval frowned, latching onto that thought and trying to explore it more, shifting his weight back and forth. It was a strange thought, a strange feeling, and he knew there was a word for it; that instinctive raven part of him knew the feeling, but the man didn't know the word.

It was called…it was….

A memory, not his own. A flash of gold, of sunlight. Of laughing green eyes and solemn, adoring grey. A soft closeness, and a voice…a word.

 _"It's called love, Maleficent."_

Diaval started, his eyes darting up to meet the guarded ones of his Mistress, the light from her staff flickering and casting further shadows across her face. He still couldn't read her expression, but he knew that if he tried to press further; to reach out or especially if he shared his newfound feeling…it wouldn't bode well for him. And yet, he couldn't ignore the feeling, either. Couldn't confront it and couldn't get rid of it.

And so, he did the only thing he could do in situations like these.

He left.

And tried to deny the broken sob that echoed down the cave walls after him.

* * *

At the edge of the thorn wall, just where the Moors started to meet the world in the form of a meadow beyond, an ancient tree conversed with a man.

"And what of Maleficent?"

The tree spoke, and the man shifted so his back was pressed even further against the trunk he leant on.

"Stubborn," he replied mournfully. "You said so yourself. She won't admit to it, and I can't help her if she…."

"I would say it will take time, and yet…," the tree made a gesture that could have been a shrug, but which only served to dislodge the man from his position.

"We've had more than enough time, Balthazar," the man said, his sharp features pulling down into a frown. "There's nothing I can do."

"But knowing you, you'll still try, won't you Diaval?"

"Always," the man murmured. "I owe her my life, even if she no longer wants it."

The tree hummed low and long, its branches creaking with its questioning moan. "Diaval?"

The man blinked, the sky above blurring between grey and blue and brown. "I think...I think…I love her."


End file.
